The Last Act
by EKWTSM9
Summary: November 27th, 1978 - a day that will change many lives forever. SOSF is the property of Quinn Martin and CBS - I use the characters for my own pleasure, and hopefully that of others.
1. Chapter 1

**The Last Act – Chapter One**

"Daniel, do me a favor, will ya? Pull over when we get to Morty's – I want to get an early lunch." Detective Lieutenant Mike Stone rubbed his tired eyes then shook his head vigorously as if trying to wake himself up.

He and his partner, Inspector Dan Robbins, had been working all weekend, and now on this sunny but brisk late November Monday morning, fatigue was beginning to make itself felt.

"No problem," the younger man answered affably as he turned the large tan Galaxy sedan in the direction requested.

"All I've had so far this morning is a cup of coffee," Mike complained good-naturedly, "and I'm pretty sure I've been hearing one of Morty's Reubens calling to me since we left the office."

Dan chuckled as he pulled the car to the curb in front of the small deli. As Mike opened his door, he looked once more across the front seat. "Can I get you anything?" he asked with a knowing grin. On Dan's almost patented long-suffering look, he laughed as he climbed out of the car. "One of these days, my boy, one of these days I'll get you to chow down on a Reuben, mark my words." He slammed the car door and headed towards the store.

He was just about to pull the glass door open when Dan's voice stopped him. "Mike!" He turned back. Dan nodded a little further down the block. "I'm gonna get myself a salad; meet you back here at the car."

"You got it," Mike called back as he opened the door and entered the deli.

# # # # #

Criminology Professor Steve Keller was sitting at his desk, a stack of essays piled before him. He sat back, tossed his pen onto the desk, ran his fingers over his eyes, then down across the short, well-tended beard that now graced his face. He stretched his back muscles, grunted slightly, then picked up the pen again and started back to work.

A discreet throat-clearing from the hallway caught his attention and he looked up to see a fellow academic leaning against the doorframe, armed crossed.

The older professor was smiling sympathetically; he glanced at the watch on his left wrist then back up at his colleague. "Jeez, Steve, you look like you've been at that all night? It's only 11 – how bad are you going to be looking at 5?"

Steve smiled sardonically, tossing the pen once more onto the desk and leaning back. "Truth be told, I only started on this about an hour ago. I had rather a late night last night…" He raised his eyebrows knowingly, grinning.

"I get the picture," Professor Carleton chuckled, uncrossing his arms and moving towards the desk. "Ah, to be young and in the full flush of life." He dropped himself down on one of the guest chairs in front of the desk. "So, how goes it, dear boy? Anybody this year that stands out from the rest?"

Steve sighed loudly and glanced down at the papers on the desk. "One or two, I think, but I'll know more after the exams coming up. You?"

Carleton was Steve's immediate superior and someone who had been in the Criminology Department for over two decades. Steve respected the hell out of the man. "Oh, you know, the usual, same as you. We might get a few decent cops out of them."

Steve chuckled. Carleton never let him forget the years he had spent as a street cop, and though it had been over two years since the incident that had precipitated his early retirement from SFPD and changed his life forever, the older man knew that his younger colleague's heart still dwelt in the past.

"Speaking of which," he continued with a grin as he leaned forward once more and picked up the pen, "I gotta get these done and get out of here at a decent hour. I'm meeting Mike for dinner tonight and I'd better not be late; not after the last time." He chuckled at the memory; an accident on the Bay Bridge meant he was over an hour late for their dinner 'date' and he had arrived to find a very worried cop waiting for him. Some things never change.

Taking the hint, Carleton got up from the chair and started back towards the door.

"Good for you. Give Mike my best, okay?"

"Will do," Steve acknowledged as he bent over the papers once again.

# # # # #

Juggling her books and file folders, Jeannie Stone pulled the door open and entered the small, dark-paneled shop. She paused briefly, allowing the deeply rich aroma of fresh-brewed coffee to fill her nostrils. Getting into line, she reached into her bag and grabbed her change purse, patiently waiting. When she got to the counter, the girl behind the cash looked up and smiled. "'Morning, Jeannie, the usual?"

"Yep," the dark-haired young woman replied with a smile. "Oh, Carole, you have no idea how much I need this this morning!" She handed over a couple of bills.

The cashier laughed. "Another weekend studying?"

Jeannie nodded vigorously. "If I knew getting a Ph.D. was gonna be this hard…"

"Ah, you'll nail it. But architecture? Whew, that's gotta be a bitch," Carole said as she handed over the change and another Starbucks employee put a cardboard cup on coffee on the counter between them. "So, are you going home for Christmas?"

Jeannie looked up from dropping the coins into the tip jar. "You bet. I got my ticket Friday. My Dad is going to be so happy to see me, almost as much as I'm gonna be happy to see him!" she laughed as she picked up the coffee cup.

"Have a great day," Carole called after her as she turned and left the store.

# # # # #

Mike stifled a yawn as he entered the deli, letting the door close behind him. He headed towards the back where the sandwich counter was located. The store seemed deserted, not an unusual circumstance for a Monday before the lunch hour rush.

"Morty, my man, I am in desperate need of one of your –" He had stepped from between the rows into the area before the deli counter and stopped short. Morty was behind the display case, unmoving, his wide eyes fixated on something out of Mike's field of vision, something down the adjacent aisle.

Silently, Mike took a couple more steps to his right then caught his breath. Standing in the aisle was a tall, thin, wild-eyed young man, his left arm around the throat of a terrified elderly woman, a long-barreled .22 pointing at the back of her head.

Immediately reading the situation, Mike stopped moving, raising his empty, open hands in an 'I'm not armed' gesture. Smiling slightly, he asked quietly, "What's going on here, son?"

The young man flinched as if struck and his gun hand began to shake. "Don't call me son!" he bellowed. "Nobody calls me son!" The woman let out a squeal of fear.

"Okay, okay, okay," Mike assured quickly and calmly, dropping his eyes placatingly. "My mistake, I'm sorry."

Everybody calmed down, Mike started again. "My name is Mike and I'm a police officer. Now, from what I can see here, you seem to have gotten yourself into a situation that's maybe gotten a little out of control. Am I right?"

Breathing heavily, the young man nodded, eyes still wide with fear and something else that Mike could only guess at.

"Good, good," Mike said soothingly, grateful that at least he was being heard. He resisted the urge to look towards the door, hoping that no-one else would enter the deli or that Dan wouldn't come looking for him if this went on too long. He met the woman's eyes briefly, trusting that in his calm demeanour and approach, she would get control of her fear and not become a liability.

"Okay, so, what's say you let Morty and this nice lady go, and then you and I can have a little talk about what's going on here? We don't want anybody getting hurt now, do we?" he asked softly and was grateful to see the young man nod slightly.

Mike looked at the woman again and nodded encouragingly. Her eyes still wide with fear, she nodded back and began to take a step forward. The young man's grip around her neck tightened slightly and she froze, a whimper escaping her lips. She looked at Mike apologetically.

"You have to let her go," he said calmly, taking a half step forward, staring at the young man's dilated pupils, hoping his words were getting through. Almost somnambulantly, the gunman's forearm began to move away from the woman's neck. Her eyes fixed on Mike's face, she took a tentative step forward and, as the arm dropped from around her neck, almost flung herself at the rock steady detective.

Putting his hands on her shoulders but still looking at the young man, Mike steadied the elderly woman and moved her to the side. He smiled slightly and nodded, "Thank you." He turned his head slightly and called over his shoulder. "Morty, why don't you take this lady out of your store?"

"Ah, yeah, sure," the florid faced deli owner said shakily as he started to move around the counter.

Suddenly the front door slammed open and a voice boomed out. "Hey, Morty, we're here for our usual!" Morty's eyes widened in fear and he broke into a run, trying to get to the front door. Mike, who had glanced at the retreating deli owner, turned quickly back to the gunman, but one look at the young man's eyes told him it was all over. As the elderly woman bolted away, Mike took a step back towards the young man and held up his hands, shaking his head.

Both pairs of eyes were wide with fear. As Mike took another step forward, the long- barreled .22 turned towards him. He kept repeating "No, no, no…" until the trigger was pulled.


	2. Chapter 2

Steve splashed water on his face and looked at himself in the mirror, water drops falling from his beard. He knew if he were still a cop this beard would be a figment of his imagination. He moved his chin from side to side, admiring his hirsute look, and laughed when he remembered Mike's initial reaction.

He dried his hands and was just dropping the paper towel into the wastebasket when the washroom door opened. "I thought I'd find you in here," Derek Washburn said by way of greeting. "There's a phone call for you in the main office."

"I'll be right there," Steve said, taking one last look in the mirror before crossing to the door. He fell into step behind Washburn as they walked down the corridor. They were halfway to the office when Washburn looked back over his shoulder.

"It's the San Francisco Police Department," he said casually, and Steve smiled slightly, shaking his head. It was probably Mike calling to cancel their dinner date.

"It's Inspector Robbins."

In an instant, Steve's world narrowed. The walls seemed to close in, as did the floor and ceiling. Sound became muted, words unintelligible. He felt his heart begin to pound and his head swam. He knew he was trembling and it was all he could do to put one foot in front of the other.

Mechanically, he followed Washburn into the office. The younger man gestured towards a desk where a receiver lay on a blotter. Time slowed to as crawl as he crossed the large office to the desk and picked up the phone with a hand that seemed disconnected from his body. Shaking, he brought the receiver to his ear. His mouth was dry but he managed to get out, "Dan?" into the void.

There was a slight pause on the other end then a heavy, emotion-laden voice said quietly, "Steve?"

"Yeah..?"

"It's Mike." There was a long pause. Neither man seemed willing to fill the silence.

Finally Steve found his voice again. "Is he dead?" he whispered quietly, not noticing the others in the room turn in his direction.

"No no," came the quick reply, "but it's bad, Steve, it's really bad…"

He heard Dan take a deep breath. "How bad?" he asked, closing his eyes in anticipation of the answer.

Another heavy breath. "He took three to the chest."

Steve gasped, gripping the receiver so tightly his knuckles turned white. A couple of his colleagues began to move closer to the desk.

"But they were .22's, Steve, he's got a chance." They both took deep steadying breaths.

"Were you with him?"

"Not when he was shot but right after. I was with him in the ambulance."

"Where is he?"

"Franklin."

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

"What about Jeannie?"

"I'll figure that out when I get there." Without saying goodbye, Steve put the receiver down on the cradle, unable to move. He felt someone close in beside him and a hand touch his arm.

"My car's just outside, I'll drive you," a gentle voice said and he looked up into the face of Associate Professor Jeff Burns. Burns was startled by the lost, frightened look that had replaced Steve's usually calm and controlled demeanour, and his heart went out to his obviously distraught friend.

Burns put a hand on Steve's arm and turned him in the direction of the door. They began to move slowly across the room. "Where are we going?" he asked quietly.

Steve turned his head slightly. "Ah, Franklin, he's at Franklin."

Burns nodded slowly, "Okay, good, we'll get there as fast as we can, I promise you."

He stepped back to let Steve through the door first, sad concerned eyes following their exit.

# # # # #

Dan put the receiver on the hook, not letting go, then leaned forward and rested his forehead against the back of his hand. Without a doubt that was the hardest phone call he had ever had to make. As close as he and Mike had become over the past two years, he knew their relationship paled in comparison to the bond his partner had shared, and continued to share, with Steve.

Taking a deep breath and straightening up, he turned and walked slowly back towards the waiting room. Word hadn't spread yet, and he had been the only one there when he left to make the call. He knew that at least two squad cars had been at the scene when he had left in the ambulance, but he half expected to see some others, at least a uniform or two, when he returned.

Stepping into the room, he was surprised to find no other officers there as yet, but the babel of voices had increased and strangers seemed to be talking to one another in an agitated state. There was a shocked, stunned atmosphere in the room that Dan couldn't comprehend.

In his own world, his heart and mind in an operating room somewhere in bowels of the building, he made his way to an empty chair and dropped into it, leaning forward and putting his head in his hands.

He wasn't sure how long he remained in that position before a voice urgently calling his name shook him from his preoccupation. He looked up to see Sergeants Norm Haseejian and Bill Tanner standing over him, worry distorting their features as they noted the dried blood on their colleagues hands and clothes. He stood quickly.

"How is he?" Haseejian asked in a rush, taking Dan's arm.

Dan shook his head quickly. "I haven't heard yet. They took him right into the OR when we got here and nobody's come out to say anything to me yet." He paused and took a deep breath, looking at them with upraised eyebrows. "That's a good sign, isn't it?" he asked hopefully, almost rhetorically.

The others nodded, looking around the room then back at their colleague. Dan leaned closer to Haseejian. "Norm, what the hell's going on? Why aren't more of the guys here?"

Haseejian's eyes snapped to Dan's and he froze. "You haven't heard?" he asked cautiously. When Dan shook his head, Haseejian took a deep breath, looked away briefly, then said quietly, "Supervisor Dan White walked into City Hall about an hour ago and shot Mayor Moscone and Harvey Milk to death."

Dan didn't move as he stared into his colleague's eyes, not quite believing what he had heard. "You're kidding, right?" he asked breathlessly.

"I wish he was," said Tanner, slapping Dan lightly on the arm and shaking his head. "The entire city is on alert; no one knows where White is right now."

"How…ah, how did get a piece into the building?" Dan asked, still reeling from this second shock.

"We don't know yet," Haseejian answered with a tinge of anger in his voice. "Look, ah, Dan, we all want to be here, you know that, but we've been ordered back to City Hall. Everyone is on this until White is in custody and we know how the hell it went down." He looked at Dan helplessly, but the younger man just shook his head and managed a slight smile.

"No, no, you guys, you go … I'll be here for Mike, don't worry. I just, ah, I just called Steve and he's on his way. He should be here soon. You guys come back when you can."

Brow furrowed, Haseejian nodded and grabbed the younger man in a brief hug. Tanner slapped his arm again and the two sergeants quickly strode back across the room and down the corridor. Numb and drained, the dark-haired inspector sank back down onto the chair.

# # # # #

Burns glanced across the front seat. Steve was immobile, staring through the windshield, looking at nothing. They were just approaching the Bay Bridge; not a word had been exchanged. "How long were you partners?" he asked quietly.

Steve didn't move and Burns wasn't sure his question had been heard. Then Steve took a deep breath, his head went back slightly and he seemed to refocus. "Six years," he said softly.

"That's a long time."

Steve nodded slowly, a small smile playing across his lips and his eyes softening at the memory.

Not wanting to push his luck, Burns turned his full attention back to his driving. He glanced over once more, grateful to see Steve's smile linger, hoping he was thinking positively and not giving in to his deepest fears.

# # # # #

Jeannie was sitting at one of the small round tables just outside the University of Washington's dining hall, her books spread out before her. Distractedly, she reached for the coffee cup and took a sip, her head snapping back and features contorting in disgust as the ice-cold liquid touched her lips. "Yuck," she chuckled as got up from the chair and dumped the cup into a nearby garbage can.

She had just sat back down when someone approached the table in a hurry, "Jeannie!" She looked up, recognizing one of her lecture mates.

"Hi, Karen, have a – "

"You're from San Francisco, right?" Karen interrupted.

"Yeah."

"Get in here," Karen said quickly, grabbing Jeannie by the arm and trying to pull her to her feet.

Jeannie stood, letting herself be dragged into the dining hall. A bunch of students were crowded around a large television that had been sitting on a high stand in the corner of the room, a leftover from the Watergate years. "What's going on?" she asked as they got closer to the others.

"Sssh, listen," Karen ordered quietly.

"They're gonna to show it again," someone said.

"Show what?" Jeannie asked, confused and becoming a little frightened.

On the screen, a fuzzy picture of a dark-haired woman and two dark-haired men, one of them in shirtsleeves, appeared, looking like some kind of impromptu press conference. Startled, Jeannie thought she recognized the head of the San Francisco Board of Supervisors, Diane Feinstein.

"…Both Mayor Moscone and Supervisor Harvey Milk…have been shot and killed… The…" Jeannie gasped at the same time there was a loud outburst from the reporters and others on the videotape and they had to be waved and shouted silent. "The suspect is Supervisor Dan White."

Jeannie's knees went weak and she grabbed her friend's arm. "Oh my god…"

Karen looked at her. "Your Dad's a cop, right?"

Still staring at the screen, Jeannie nodded then looked at her friend, eyes wide with disbelief. "Well, I know where he'll be all day."


	3. Chapter 3

Still unaware of the events at City Hall earlier that day, Steve strode into the waiting room expecting to encounter a sea of uniformed and plainclothes officers. But that thought quickly evaporated when, in the half-filled room of 'civilians', he spotted Dan Robbins sitting alone in a chair against the far wall, his head back, eyes closed, lines of worry and fear etched deeply into his features.

"Dan," he said urgently as he approached; the young cop's eyes snapped open and he scrambled to his feet. Steve pulled him into a quick hug. "How is he?" he asked as they separated and he stepped back.

Dan shook his head. "I still haven't heard anything," he shrugged helplessly, his voice unsteady.

Steve sat, shaking his head angrily. "I don't know how many times I told him to be careful, he's not getting any younger. I even made him promise he wouldn't get himself into any dangerous situations if he could help it."

Dan put a hand on his friend's arm as he retook his own seat. "Steve, he wasn't in a dangerous situation. We'd stopped at Morty's and he went in for a sandwich. From what I know right now, and it's not much, there was a kid in there robbing the place. But Mike saved lives this morning, I do know that. The hostages were on their way out before the shooting started."

With a heavy anguished sigh, Steve dropped his head into his hands. Getting a grip on his roiling emotions, he looked up. "Three times, you said?"

Dan nodded. "I don't think any of them were near his heart, but they definitely hit his lungs; two on the left side, one on the right. He was unconscious when I got to him and barely breathing. Morty helped me try to stop the bleeding before the ambulance got there. They, uh, they intubated him in the ambulance and they were doing chest compressions by the time we got here." His voice trailed off and the silence between them lengthened.

Steve finally looked up. "I need to call Jeannie but I have to talk to someone at the University first. I don't want her alone when I tell her." He got wearily to his feet and crossed to the nurse's station. Dan watched as he talked to one of the nurses, who put a phone on the counter near him. Steve dialed a short number, fished a pad and pen out of his inside jacket pocket and jotted something down. He pushed the switch hook on the phone a couple of times, then dialed again, and Dan could tell from the lengthy number it was a long distance call. Steve glanced over at the young inspector and flashed a quick reassuring smile.

Reaching the party he was hoping to get and, after a somewhat truncated explanation of what he needed, Steve's call was forwarded to one of the university's teachers lounges. When a masculine voice answered the call, Steve asked to speak to a Marion DeJong. Several seconds later, he could hear the receiver change hands.

"Marion DeJong," the pleasant female voice said, "how can I help you?"

"Professor DeJong, my name is Steve Keller, I'm an associate professor of criminology at Berkeley and I need you to do me a really big favour." For the next several minutes, Steve explained to the increasingly concerned and sympathetic scholar the reason for his call.

When he finished, there was a long silence on the other end of the line. "Mr. Keller, I believe I know where Jeannie Stone is right now. Would you like me to put you on hold while I track her down? It might take awhile."

With a relieved sigh, and nodding even though she couldn't see him, Steve replied, "Yes, that sounds like a good idea."

"I'll be back as soon as I can," DeJong continued, adding, "And don't worry, Mr. Keller, I think I know how I can get her to the office without tipping my hand, and just so you know, one of my colleagues is already talking to a travel agent regarding the first flight out."

Dan watched as Steve seemed to finish the conversation, turn to lean against the counter and lay the receiver on his shoulder. The older man's eyes glazed over as he stared into space, and Dan knew where his thoughts were now as well. Dan looked down at the floor and squeezed his eyes tightly shut, fighting the emotional pain. Mike had only been a part of his life for two years; he couldn't begin to imagine what Steve was going through.

# # # # #

Smiling and laughing, a confused but unsuspecting Jeannie followed the professor into the teacher's lounge. She had never been in the cavernous and overly furnished room before and she took it all in as she crossed to the telephone on the desk. She was so impressed with the sight that she failed to notice the many pairs of sympathetic eyes that followed her progress as she picked up the receiver and put it to her ear. "Hello, this is Jean Stone," she said brightly.

After a split second of silence, she heard a familiar voice. "Jeannie, it's Steve."

Instantaneously her smile disappeared and her face contorted in shock and grief. "No, no, no," she started to repeat over and over as Professor DeJong stepped closer and wrapped the younger woman in a tight embrace as Steve's "No, Jeannie, he's not dead, he's not dead…" echoed continuously in her ear.

Eventually his words sunk in and she calmed enough so he could tell her, in very broad strokes, what had happened and what he wanted her to do.

# # # # #

Steve hung the phone up slowly then continued to stand near the counter, using the heels of his hands to wipe the tears from his eyes. He pulled himself together, then turned and walked back across the room, dropping heavily into the chair beside Dan.

"She's taking the three o'clock flight. It's two hours from Seattle so she'll get here around five. I'll go and pick her up." He sighed wearily. "Hopefully, if we're lucky, I'll have something good to tell her by then."

Dan nodded slowly, grateful that Steve had taken on such an onerous task. He had long admired his talented, ambitious and much beloved former colleague, amiably jealous of the ease with which he seemed to deal with any situation.

Suddenly Steve's head shot up. "Oh, I forgot to ask, why are you the only one here? Hasn't anyone been told yet?"

Dan's eyebrows rose slightly and he swallowed hard. He suddenly realized that news of the City Hall shootings probably hadn't filtered through to all levels of the city's denizens as yet, and that most likely on the drive from Berkeley to The City, the car radio had not been on. "You haven't heard?" he asked quietly, knowing that the seemingly innocent question would elicit a visceral response.

"Heard what?" Steve asked sharply as he leaned forward, his own green eyes boring into Dan's.

Dan inhaled quickly, clearing his throat. "Dan White shot and killed Moscone and Milk this morning."

Stunned, Steve continued to stare then he shook he head, blinking rapidly. "What?"

Dan regrouped. "Dan White killed the Mayor and Harvey Milk this morning – he shot them in their offices around 11."

Slowly, like a deflated balloon, Steve sat back in the chair, his stunned eyes traveling down to stare at the floor. "Jesus Christ," he said under his breath, the gravity of this new reality and its implications washing over him. "This city is going to explode," he said quietly, and Dan could only nod in agreement.

# # # # #

A crumpled tissue in one hand and her overnight bag in the other, a red-eyed Jeannie Stone climbed the airstairs and handed the boarding pass to the stewardess. Moving as if in a trance, she found her middle seat and slumped into it, grateful that the window seat was already occupied and she wouldn't have to get up. She stuffed her bag under the seat in front, snapped the seatbelt around her waist, then closed her eyes and bit her lip, trying not to cry.

Successfully able to shut out everything around her, she was only slightly startled when one of the stewardesses sat in the aisle seat and strapped herself in before take-off. As the plane bumped along the taxiway, the blond stewardess, her eyes crinkled in concern, smiled warmly. "You look like you're having a bad day, honey."

Taking comfort in the kindly blue eyes, Jeannie nodded, hoping she wouldn't dissolve into tears once again. Her voice shaking, she said softly, "My dad's a police officer in San Francisco…he was shot this morning…"

"Oh my god," the blond caught her breath, a hand coming up to her mouth, "I am so sorry. Was he at City Hall?"

"No, no," Jeannie said quickly, "he was somewhere else."

"Is he…is he going to be okay?" the stewardess asked softly, her voice laced with trepidation and sympathy.

Jeannie caught her breath before answering. "I don't know," she whispered, her voice cracking, "he's still in surgery I think."

The stewardess put her hand over Jeannie's and squeezed. "Oh, darling," she said quietly, the two women bracing themselves as the plane accelerated down the runway.

Once they had gained altitude and the seatbelt sign was turned off, the stewardess bolted from her seat and entered the business class cabin, shutting the curtain behind her. She emerged scant seconds later and leaned into Jeannie's row, reaching for the overnight bag under the seat.

"Come with me," she said to Jeannie as she picked up the bag, sliding it past the younger woman's legs. "There's a seat open in business class and I want you to take it."

"No, no, I'm okay," Jeannie started to demur, not wanting to inconvenience anyone.

"No, you're coming with me," the stewardess insisted.

Startled but compliant, the distraught young woman undid her seatbelt and got to her feet, following the slightly older blond towards the front of the plane. As they stepped through the curtain and moved towards the empty seat, Jeannie could feel the eyes of the men in business suits bore into her as her bag was placed in the overhead compartment and she slid into the seat.

Trying to stifle her tears, Jeannie looked up at and smiled. With another warm look and an encouraging pat on the shoulder, the stewardess left her alone and went to work.

The flight passed surprisingly swiftly and the plane made a smooth touchdown. Jeannie had spent the time lost in her own world, oblivious of everything and everyone around her, every thought, every breath monopolized with overwhelming anxiety and the terrifying reality that might actually lose her father.

The plane was coming to a stop at the gate when the blond stewardess suddenly appeared in the small, curtained-off cabin and stood at the door. "Gentlemen," she announced, "I would like to ask you all to please remain in your seats and allow this young woman to be the first off the plane. Thank you." She looked at Jeannie and smiled encouragingly.

As the seatbelt sign was turned off, Jeannie stood, grabbed her bag from the overhead bin and walked towards the door. The stewardess and a ground crew member opened the huge plane door and, as Jeannie moved to exit, she stopped in front of the young blond woman and put a hand on her arm. "Thank you," she said, trying to retain her composure. "I'll never forget your kindness."

"You just be there for your Dad," the stewardess said with a sad smile, and as Jeannie started down the airstairs, she could hear behind her, "Gentlemen, thank you so much. You may exit the plane now."

Knowing she looked a mess but not caring, Jeannie stepped into the terminal, her eyes scanning the waiting crowd, looking for a familiar face. Not seeing anyone, she began to tremble, her barely suppressed emotions threatening to boil over. She had only just stifled a sob of despair when a gap opened in the crowd and she saw him.

Their eyes met and locked, and he took his hands out of his beige raincoat as he started towards her. His pace increased as he got closer, and he opened his arms. Dropping her bag, she flung herself towards him, wrapping her arms around his waist, burying her head against his chest. He put his arms around her shoulders, pulling her closer, and kissed the top of her head.

They stood that way for a while, gently rocking, holding onto each other for dear life.


	4. Chapter 4

**Many thanks to those who have taken the time to review - I hope I can continue to entertain!**

With his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders, Steve and Jeannie strode into the waiting room. He was a little surprised but relieved to see a few more officers, both uniformed and not, in attendance, and grateful that Inspector Lee Lessing had joined Dan.

Mike's partner scrambled to his feet at Steve and Jeannie's approach, and he quickly enveloped her in a hug. Her fingers dug into his back and he could feel her shudder. He pulled back and held her at arm's length. "Jeannie, I'm so sorry," he said, his voice quiet and broken.

"Have you heard anything?" Steve asked nervously, having exchanged a handshake and quick embrace with Lessing.

Dan turned to look at the older man. "Ah, yeah, the doctor came in about an hour ago, just after you left, Steve. It's, ah, it's sorta good news," he managed to smile. "Sit down."

Jeannie sat in the chair Dan had just vacated, Steve beside her. Dan and Lessing pulled two chairs over and formed a small circle. Dan leaned forward and took Jeannie's hands in his. "He's still not out of the woods yet by any means, and he's on life support," he heard her gasp and saw her flinch, "but the doctors think he still has a fighting chance."

He watched as she opened her tightly closed eyes, looking at him for reassurance. He nodded encouragingly.

"He has two bullets in his left lung, and they're going to leave them there for the next couple of days. Luckily, they said his lung didn't fill with blood and it didn't collapse, so it's functioning, which is exactly what he needs because, well," Dan paused and took a deep breath, "he wasn't so lucky on the other side." He glanced at Steve, his eyes widening slightly. "The kid must have had different types of bullets in his gun because the one that went into Mike's right lung was frangible."

"Frangible?" Jeannie asked, looking frantically from Dan to Steve.

Steve took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Damn it," he said quietly, then turned to Mike's daughter. "A frangible bullet is designed to disintegrate when it hits something hard, like bone."

Jeannie's wide, scared eyes turned back to Dan, who nodded. "His upper part of his lung has pretty much been shredded, and they've spent the last several hours trying to save it. They've done what they can for now… but he became too unstable and they had to stop." Dan paused, trying to find the right words. "If he stabilizes overnight, they'll take him back into the OR and try to save his lung."

" _If_? You said _if_ , Dan?" Jeannie's voice was thin and scared and she tightened her hold on his hands. She felt Steve stiffen in the chair beside her.

Dan glanced at Steve before meeting her eyes again. "He's not breathing on his own, Jeannie, and he hasn't since he was brought in. They've had to resuscitate him twice already." He dropped his head. "Jeannie, I called Father Driscoll; he knows what's going on and he can be here at a moment's notice."

Jeannie gasped and sat back, pulling her hands out of his grip. "No," she said breathlessly, "no, you can't think… no, I won't accept that, I can't…I can't," she sobbed and turned to Steve, who pulled her head once more against his chest and held her as she wept.

Dan eventually looked up, and Steve nodded in understanding before he closed his own eyes, rocking Jeannie slowly. Overcome, Dan got up and walked away, Lessing close behind him.

# # # # #

Wearing light blue hospital gowns, caps, gloves and masks, Steve followed Jeannie into the Critical Care Unit. She stopped moving when she saw her father on the hospital bed, reaching back to catch Steve's hand. He squeezed it reassuringly and she stepped deeper into the room, her eyes riveted on her father's face.

"Daddy," she said quietly as she approached the bed, taking in the array of medical equipment that seemed to overwhelm both the patient and the room.

Mike was lying flat, his head resting on a very thin pillow, his right arm at a forty-five degree angle away from his body, a light sheet pulled up to his waist. In addition to the ventilator, he was hooked up to a heart monitor, an electrocardiogram, a blood pressure monitor and an intravenous line into the back of his right hand. A drainage tube snaked out from under the large white bandage that covered the entire right side of his chest, and two smaller bandages covered the wounds in his left chest, one above the nipple, one below.

"Daddy," Jeannie whispered again, a little louder, and she looked up at the heart monitor, hoping to see some response to the sound of her voice. When there was none, she dropped her gaze sadly back down to the bed.

Hesitantly, she reached out and gently laid her hand on the top of her father's head. She longed to be able to touch and to kiss him but knew that she couldn't remove her gloves or her mask.

Standing slightly behind her, also unable to wrench his stare from his best friend's face, Steve slipped his hand into Mike's and squeezed. He closed his eyes, trying to keep the tears from sliding down his cheeks, hoping against hope that he would feel a reassuring squeeze in return. But it was not to be.

"Daddy, I'm here," he heard Jeannie whisper to her father as she leaned over the bed as best she could and stared at her father's closed eyes, as if willing them to open. "Steve's here too." He increased the pressure on Mike's hand. As she continued to speak softly, reassuring her father of their presence and their love, Steve stood quietly, desperately trying not to believe that the most important relationship in his life was over.

# # # # #

Steve followed a fragile but steadfast Jean Stone back into the waiting room. They had only been allowed to spend a few minutes in the CCU, but being able to see Mike, as critically ill as he was, had helped.

Dan stood as they approached. "How is he?" he asked quietly then dropped his eyes and sighed when Jeannie just looked at him and shook her head, her expression telling him everything he needed to know.

"Sit down," Steve said quietly, and she sank slowly into a chair. Steve and Dan locked eyes as they both sat, and in the older man's devastated expression, the younger cop closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, tears rimming his eyelids.

Steve took a deep breath and looked around the room. "Where's Lee?" he asked.

Dan opened his eyes, blinking quickly. "Um, ah, he's gone out to get us some coffee and donuts. He should be back anytime." He glanced at his watch.

A few silent minutes later, Lee Lessing walked back into the waiting room with two large paper bags, and Norm Haseejian and Bill Tanner in tow. After muted but heartfelt greetings were exchanged, Lessing handed out the cups of coffee and set the bag of donuts on the floor in the centre of the growing circle of chairs.

Lessing had brought his colleagues up to speed regarding Mike's condition, and they only had to look at the faces of the others to know that things had not improved during Lessing's short absence.

An unsettling silence lengthened. Steve could see out the window that the sun had gone down; the day had slipped by and he realized he was still mostly ignorant of the tragedy that had gripped The City and the nation for the past several hours.

Finally, unable to withstand the oppressive stillness any longer, Steve asked quietly. "So, what's going on out there?" From the corner of his eye, he saw Jeannie's head come up as she looked at Haseejian, desperate for anything to take her mind off her father for a few minutes.

Haseejian exhaled loudly and shook his head. "Well, I've never seen anything like it. The city is calm, I mean really calm, and I don't think anybody was expecting that." He glanced at Tanner before continuing. "Bill and I were ordered to City Hall just after it happened and we were there when the bodies were taken out. Oh, White's in custody, by the way; he turned himself in at Northern about an hour after the murders. That's where he was stationed when he was a cop."

"The bastard freely admitted to Frank Falzon that he did it," Tanner added. "You know Frank, right, Steve?" Their bearded former colleague nodded.

"How the hell did he get a gun into City Hall?" Dan asked, both hands wrapped around the coffee cup, grateful for its warmth.

"Well, from what he told Frank, he showed up this morning with his old service revolver, but when he realized he couldn't get it through the metal detector at the front door, he went around to the side of the building, found an open window and got in that way. He went up a back staircase and went straight to Moscone's office." Haseejian paused to take a sip of coffee.

"He shot Moscone four times," Tanner took up the narrative, "the last two to the back of the head as the Mayor lay on his office floor. Then, calm as anything, he walked down the hall to Milk's office. They had an argument, so we heard, and then he starting shooting. Five shots, the last two into Milk's brain." Tanner shook his head. "Stupid bastard…"

"How's the city doing?" Jeannie asked quietly, and Steve glanced over, thankful she was involved in their conversation, admiring the way in which she could compartmentalize her worry, very much as her father would.

"Well, it's been pretty remarkable," Haseejian answered with a slight smile. "People started showing up at City Hall just after it happened, after the announcement. The city's just stunned; I mean, you know, coming so soon after Jonestown. Nobody could believe it. They just stood around, silently, like they were all in shock. All afternoon they just stood there, hundreds of them. More and more kept coming."

"There's thousands of people there now," Tanner added. "We drove by on the way here. People have candles now that it's getting dark. There's just a sea of candles out there now, and everyone is just standing there silently… It's…it's pretty moving. This city is in a lot of pain right now…"

"Not just this city," Dan said quietly, and everyone looked at him as he stared at the floor, tears brightening his eyes.

# # # # #

The nurse approached the couple in the waiting room. The young woman, her shoes off, had her legs up on the couch and was leaning against the handsome young man with the dark beard. His arm was around her, his cheek on the top of her head, both asleep. Another dark haired young man was asleep in a chair nearby.

Reluctantly, the nurse put her hand on the bearded man's forearm and gently shook him. His eyes snapped open and his head jerked up, waking the young woman as well.

"Mr. Keller?" the nurse asked, and he shook his head rapidly, then nodded and cleared his throat.

"Yes?" he said quickly as the young woman sat up, dropping her feet to the floor, both pairs of anxious eyes now riveted on the older nurse.

"Miss Stone," she said to the younger woman, "I just wanted to let you know that your father has been taken back into the OR. Dr. Somerset and his team are going to pick up where they left off yesterday. It may be several hours until we know anything, but I wanted you to be kept up to date."

Jeannie felt Steve's hand in hers and she squeezed back. "Thank you. Thank you very much," she said. As the nurse nodded and turned away, Jeannie looked over at Dan, then at Steve, and took a deep breath.

Her father's life was in someone else's hands right now, and all she could do was wait.


	5. Chapter 5

Rubbing his tired eyes, Steve crossed to where Jeannie was sitting, staring into space. She looked drained and wan, but he knew nothing he could say would get her to lie down once more on the waiting room couch. "Here," he said, handing her a cardboard cup of tea.

He sat in the chair beside her, put his own cup of coffee on the floor and opened the paper bag he had carried back from the cafeteria. "I got us a couple of muffins. You need to eat something."

She took a sip of the hot liquid, looking at him gratefully over the brim of the cup. She was touched by his concern and, as always, in awe of the bond he continued to share with her father, a bond that nothing, it seemed, would ever break.

He glanced at his watch. It had been over four hours since the nurse has woken them with the news that Mike had been taken back into the OR. "Where's Dan?" he asked, looking around the half-filled room that seemed to be quickly becoming home.

"He went to call the office. The fellas want to be kept up-to-date and they're still all tied up with the murders yesterday." She smiled in spite of herself. "They want to be here so badly. Their loyalty…it, ah, it amazes me, it really does."

"Oh," Steve smiled, looking at her with a furrowed brow, "why is that?"

She snorted softly. "I don't know, I guess I've always thought that, you know, the boss is the boss and they have to sort of separate themselves from the staff, you know what I mean?"

"I know what you _think_ you mean," Steve said with a gentle chuckle, "but other than a few part-time jobs, you've never really been in a boss-employee situation long-term, have you?"

"Well, no," she admitted with a brief smile.

"Let me tell you about your father," Steve said with a warm grin as he sat back in the chair, coffee in hand, and crossed his legs. "If anyone has ever led by example, it's your Dad. He puts in the longest hours, he does the worst jobs, he delegates only when he needs to, he won't make his men do anything he wouldn't do himself … and he backs his men up no matter what. In the years I spent with him, I saw him time and again take the flak for things his men screwed up on, and I saw him deflect the compliments for a job well done towards his staff.

"Jeannie, any one of the guys in your father's squad would walk through fire for him, and each and every one of them would have stepped in front of those bullets yesterday in a heartbeat if they could have." He could see the tears building in her eyes. "They _love_ him, Jeannie, plain and simple. And I bet it's tearing them apart right now that they can't be here for him. So, kudos to Dan for keeping them in the loop. And I can guarantee you, the second they're released, they are all going to be here."

She smiled at him, suddenly unable to talk, grateful that she had the cup of tea to hide behind. She had never really heard anyone talk about her father that way before, and it made her proud to know that her Dad generated such respect and devotion.

With a wink and a smile, Steve leaned forward and reached into the paper bag to remove his muffin. As he sat up, he saw a doctor in surgical scrubs enter the room and look around. When the roving eyes settled on himself and Jeannie and the doctor began to cross the room, Steve straightened quickly. "Jeannie," he alerted her, indicating the approaching figure with a nod of his head.

"Miss Stone?" the older man said as he reached the pair.

"Yes," she said nervously as both she and Steve stood, suddenly anxious.

"Please, sit down, both of you," the surgeon said quickly. "I'm Doctor Somerset and I've been looking after your father."

Steve held out his hand. "Steve Keller, ah, I used to be Mike's partner."

Dr. Somerset nodded. "Good to meet you," he said quickly, shaking hands, then turned his attention back to Jeannie. "I want to bring you up to date on your father. Now he's still got a long way to go before we can be assured that he's no longer in danger, but we're slowly working our way towards that goal. What I'm going to tell you may not be easy, but I want to make sure you know everything that we're doing for him."

Jeannie reached out towards Steve and he took her hand and squeezed. She nodded apprehensively. "All right," she said breathlessly.

"Right now your father is being settled back in CCU and he's still on the ventilator. This morning, we went back to work on his right lung. Now I know you were told yesterday about how his lung was very badly damaged by the tiny bits of fragmented bullet and bone. Well, we did everything we could this morning to save the lung and," he paused, dropping his eyes momentarily, "unfortunately, we weren't entirely successful. It became necessary to do what's called a lobectomy – we had to remove the upper lobe of your father's right lung."

Jeannie gasped and sat back slightly, putting her free hand to her mouth. She felt Steve squeeze her other hand even tighter.

Somerset took a deep breath, smiled slightly and put a reassuring hand on Jeannie's knee. "Miss Stone, it sounds a lot worse than it is, believe me. Your father can recover completely from this and though he will have slightly less lung capacity, it is not a life changing complication. He'll have to be careful, of course, but his quality of life shouldn't be compromised at all."

He saw her eyebrows rise and he nodded encouragingly with a smile, his own eyebrows nearing his hairline. Still unsure, she looked at her companion, who, in contrast, seemed to be looking a little more relieved.

"As of right now, your father is still too weak to breathe on his own so we are going to keep him on the ventilator. However he will have one more big operation to get through – we need to remove the two bullets that are still in his left lung. So the plan right now is that we are going to let your dad recover from this mornings surgery for the next eighteen hours or so, and if we feel he's up to it tomorrow morning, we'll go back in and open up his chest on the left side and get those bullets out.

"Now, this is going to take a lot out of him, that goes without saying, and he'll probably need to be on the ventilator for a couple of more days. And that in itself will pose some health problems. He'll be very susceptible to pneumonia and infection, so he'll continue to be kept in Isolation and monitored very closely."

Jeannie was nodding along to everything the doctor was saying, looking stunned and overwhelmed. Steve squeezed her hand again.

"So, Miss Stone, bottom line, your Dad still has a long way to go before he comes out of all this, but he has a fighting chance. And if he has half the will to live that I think he does, and if you and Mr. Keller here are there for him, then I think he has a pretty good chance of walking out of here in a few weeks. But it's not going to be easy, I want to warn you, all right?"

Taking a deep breath and trying hard to smile, Jeannie nodded. "Yes, I understand. Thank you."

"Good." Somerset began to stand. "Well, I have to get back to my patients. As soon as your father is settled back in, I'll have someone come and get you both. You can spend some time with him, if you like."

Jeannie and Steve got to their feet; he was surprised to see Dan standing nearby. He had been so focused on what the doctor was saying that he hadn't noticed the young cop's return.

Steve shook the doctor's hand. "Thank you very much. We appreciate you being so candid, sir, and I know Mike's in good hands."

"It's my pleasure, Mr. Keller. You two take care," he added with a smile as he turned and quickly left the room.

Steve turned to Jeannie and grabbed her in a quick hug. He looked at Dan overtop of her head. "Did you hear all that?"

"Most of it," Dan answered as he joined them. "It sounds a little more encouraging, doesn't it?"

Jeannie sat back down, and the two men joined her. But when Steve leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and sighed loudly, she turned to him in concern. "What's wrong?"

Steve slowly looked up at her. "You know what it means, don't you? Having a portion of his lung removed?" he asked, staring into her eyes.

When she hesitated before answering, his eyes snapped to Dan, who dropped his own gaze as he nodded. "What?" she asked.

"Jeannie, he won't be allowed back on the streets anymore, the Department won't permit it." He paused to let the meaning of his words sink in. "It's over for him, Jeannie. If he decides to go back to work, he'll be confined to a desk."

Jeannie stared at him, the implications starting to register. "That job is his life," she whispered, her face contorting in despair, a hand over her mouth.

Steve leaned against the back of the chair and let his head drop back, rubbing a tired hand over his face, then folding his arms and closing his eyes. 'Let's hope Mike gets the chance to make that decision,' he thought poignantly.

# # # # #

Gowned, capped, gloved and masked once more, Steve and Jeannie stood on either side of Mike's hospital bed, holding his hands. He looked much the same as before, save for the even larger bandage wrapped around the entire upper right side of his chest and the bed now raised to a forty-degree angle.

Jeannie was leaning close her father, talking to him, stroking his hair, praying for the slightest sign that he knew she was there.

Steve had spoken to Mike when he'd first arrived, but now he stood silently, the unresponsive hand in his own, listening to the whoosh-click of the machine that was keeping his best friend alive. His heart was breaking for this critically injured man who now not only had to fight for his own survival but who, if he won that fight, faced the reality that the life that he loved, the life he had carved out for himself through all those years, was gone.


	6. Chapter 6

The babble of voices coming down the corridor and into the room caught his attention and Steve looked up from his study of the floor tiles to see almost the entire Homicide squad of detectives enter the room, all in uniform. He stood so they could see him, and the volume of their conversations dropped as they picked their way across the room towards him.

Many he had not seen in months and, as serious as the current situation was, smiles and brief hugs were exchanged. Steve gave Dan Healey an extra slap on the back. "Hey, congratulations," he said with a wide smile "it's about time, right?"

Healey nodded, looking down in embarrassment. Six months earlier, he had been promoted to lieutenant and transferred to Robbery. "I owe it all to Mike, you know that, right?" he said quietly, the pain evident in his voice. "Sorry, Steve, we all tried to be here earlier but they've had us on crowd control…"

"Don't worry about it," Steve said quickly, "it's not your fault."

"How is he?" asked Haseejian, his service hat in his hands.

Steve filled them in on the latest developments, hesitating when he got to Mike's most recent surgery. He cleared his throat. "They've, uh,…the bullet in his right lung was frangible." He heard a few of them catch their breaths. "The damage was just too bad, they had to remove the upper lobe of his lung." He stopped talking, knowing they were all well aware of what that meant.

Everybody froze, then very quietly Tanner said, "God damn it," and sank heavily into a nearby chair.

"That's it, isn't it?" Lessing asked no one in particular. "He won't be coming back."

"Not unless it's behind a desk," Haseejian added sadly. He turned and walked away, preferring to deal with this in his own way.

Steve let them digest the news, sitting back down. Healey took the seat beside him, his head lowered, turning his hat over and over in his hands. Finally, he looked around the room. "Where's Dan? And Jeannie? I thought they'd be here."

"They've both been here since this all started on Monday. I had Dan take her home for a couple of hours so she could shower and change. She's, ah, she's having a pretty rough time, as you can imagine."

Healey looked into Steve's eyes. "How are you holding up?" he asked kindly.

Steve smiled, grateful for the concern he knew to be genuine. "I'm okay. I'll be a lot better when he opens his eyes and looks at me, but until then…" He smiled wistfully and looked down. "Sometimes I wish I was a praying man, you know…"

Healey snorted and patted Steve's knee. "Mike knows you're here, believe me. I'm just gonna go check on Norm," he said, standing up. "Be right back."

Steve leaned towards Tanner. "Bill, I haven't heard anything about the investigation into Mike's shooting. Do you know what's going on with that?"

Tanner looked down guiltily before leaning forward, elbows on his knees, the grip on his hat tightening nervously. "As far as I know, there's a coupla uniforms doing follow-up but we've been so tied up with this whole Dan White thing, no one knows what's going on. We heard through the grapevine that we're going back to our own squads later on today, so hopefully we'll get going on this."

"Is the shooter in custody at least?"

Tanner shook his head. "Not yet, but we've got a great description from Morty and the old lady that was being held hostage, so we shouldn't have too much trouble tracking him down - if he's still in town, that is…" He sighed in frustration. "Let's just hope Norm doesn't get to him first…" he said quietly, and Steve knew he was only half-joking.

# # # # #

Jeannie was leaning against Steve on the couch, Dan in the chair next to them. No one had spoken for a long time. The sun had finally set on what was becoming a very long day of waiting and hoping. Dan had spent some time at Mike's bedside earlier in the afternoon, and all three were prepared to spend the night once again on the uncomfortable furniture of the CCU waiting room.

His head back, on the cusp of sleep, Steve thought he heard a throat being cleared and opened his eyes. A stout, florid-faced middle-aged man, wearing a dark suit and a battered fedora, stood before them.

"I, ah, I'm sorry to disturb you," the man began hesitantly, "but I just thought, well, I just wanted to –"

"Morty?" Dan interrupted, having snapped awake himself and leaning forward.

The older man's eyes turned towards the detective. "Dan," he said with a smile, "I, ah, I wanted to come by and see how Mike is doing…"

Jeannie had by now straightened up, dropping her feet to the floor and looking at this new arrival with interest. Despite himself, Steve smiled. "Jeannie, may I introduce Morty Drescher," he said, gesturing toward the small man, "owner of the best deli in San Francisco, in Mike's opinion. Morty, this is Mike's daughter, Jeannie."

Morty took his hat off. "Oh," he said with delighted surprise, "I'm very pleased to meet you, young lady. I wish it was under better circumstances," he finished sadly, his eyes dropping to the floor then he looked up at Steve. "I didn't recognize you with all the hair," he said with a wry grin. "You haven't been around for awhile."

"Well, I'm living in Berkeley now, Morty; I'm teaching at the university."

"Yeah, I heard that. Mike's really proud of you, ya know. Oh, uh, how's he doin'?"

Steve shrugged, nodding slightly. "He's hanging in there."

"Good, good," the deli owner said distractedly, then seemed to remember the large paper bag he was holding. "Oh, ah, I thought maybe you'd all be here, ya know, so's I brought you some sandwiches and stuff from my shop. Here," he said, holding the bag towards Dan, who took it with cock of his head and a small smile. "Don't worry," Morty continued to Dan, "there's a vegetarian sandwich and a salad in there for you."

Jeannie smiled, for the first time in days it seemed, and fixed her penetrating gaze on the older man. "Mr. Drescher –"

"Morty, darlin', please, call me Morty. Everybody does."

"Morty," she continued with a grin so reminiscent of her father, "thank you, this means a lot, believe me."

"Darlin', this is nothin'. I owe your Dad big time. As far as I'm concerned, he has Reuben sandwiches for life - hell, he can have any sandwich he likes, for life." He turned to Steve. "You tell him that, Steve, for me, will ya?"

With a shake of his head and a warm smile, Steve said quietly, "You bet, Morty, I'll tell him."

# # # # #

Steve glanced at his watch, then stood and walked around the room, stretching his back muscles. It felt good to be in clean clothes. The previous evening he had given his friend Jeff Burns a call. Burns had graciously driven into the city, picked him up and taken him back to UCB so he could get his car. He'd gone home briefly to shower and change, then packed a bag and returned to the hospital.

Now, almost 10 a.m., he, Jeannie and Dan, who had been joined by Tanner, Lessing and Healey, were waiting for word from Dr. Somerset. Mike had been taken into the OR at 8 a.m. to have the two bullets removed from his left lung.

It was shortly before noon when Dr. Somerset walked into the waiting room, and even before he opened his mouth, from his ready smile they knew things had gone as well as could be expected. He approached them with his hands up. "You can all relax," he said with a chuckle, "it was textbook."

There was more than one sigh of relief, one pair of closed eyes, one "Thank god".

"Sit down, all of you," he ordered amiably, "I've been on my feet for too long and I'll feel uncomfortable if all of you are standing over me." He dropped into the chair beside Jeannie. "Your Dad was a star this morning, my dear. Everything went perfectly. We got in, found the two bullets and got out without a problem. He's on his way back to CCU, and you should be able to go in to see him in about a half hour."

Jeannie exhaled loudly, glancing Steve and Dan. "Thank you," she said almost breathlessly, relief written all over her smiling face. "Thank you so much."

Somerset grinned back. "You're welcome. But, like I said before, we're not out of the woods completely yet. Your Dad's still on the ventilator but we hope to wean him off it tomorrow or the next day, and we'll have to remain very vigilant when it comes to pneumonia, so everyone must remember to stay covered up when you're in there with him. We don't want to put him at any more risk."

They all nodded.

"We - that is, my team and I - have done all we can for him, so from this point on, it's Mike's will to live that'll see him through the rest of this. His life is in his own hands from here on out. But he's obviously a fighter with a strong constitution –"

"He sure is," Dan said quietly with a chuckle that the others echoed.

"- and that's what he needs. So you can all relax for now, he's did great, he's doing great, and let's see what the rest of the day and tomorrow brings us, all right?"

The doctor said his farewells and left the room, leaving behind a small group of temporarily relieved but still very worried souls.

# # # # #

Steve was slowly putting on the gown, standing at the portable shelf unit filled with the necessary accoutrement that were to be worn before entering any Isolation unit. It had been a long day, and he had already been in to see his former partner twice. He had managed to talk Jeannie into going home for the night, forcing her to admit that if she got a good night's sleep, she would able to spend more quality time with her father the next day.

Having won the argument, his years of practice negotiating with a Stone coming back into play, he'd had Dan drive her home with the promise that the young cop would also take advantage of his time away and get some sleep as well. Promising to call should anything happen during the night, Steve was going to spend some quiet time with his best friend before bedding down on the couch for the night once more.

With a heartfelt sigh, pulling the mask over his nose and mouth, he began to push the heavy wooden door open, then stopped abruptly. Someone was standing by the head of the bed with their back to the door. He could tell from the wardrobe, identical to his own, that this wasn't a nurse or a doctor, and from where he stood he could hear the low murmur of an unidentifiable voice.

Somehow realizing that Mike was not in any danger, Steve took a step into the room, allowing the door to swing shut. The person beside the bed froze then turned towards him. Above the mask, Steve looked into striking and very feminine dark brown eyes that crinkled with what looked like delight when they took him in.

Taken slightly aback, he took another step towards her. "May I help you?" he asked tentatively, realizing he had no idea who this woman was.

With a quick look back at the bed, she crossed to him, maintaining a steady and somewhat disconcerting eye contact. "You must be Steve," she said, her voice low and throaty but her tone playful and non-threatening.

Cocking his head, meeting her stare directly, he smiled as well. "You kind of have me at a disadvantage; you obviously know who I am…"

If it was possible, her eyes crinkled even more. "Yes, I certainly do. But that's not fair, because I don't think you know about me. Allow me to introduce myself," she said with impish formality, holding out her gloved right hand. "My driver's license says Katherine Dowd, but Mike calls me by my real name – Maggie. Maggie Jarris."


	7. Chapter 7

They were sitting at a small table against the wall in an Irish pub near the hospital. The live band was packing up and the place was emptying out, so they didn't have to raise their voices to make themselves heard. She was sipping a vodka martini, straight up with a twist; he was nursing a dark ale.

They had left the hospital together about a half hour earlier after Steve had spent some time with Mike and they had taken their leave, promising the comatose man that they would return in the morning. In the hallway, stripping off their hospital gowns and masks, he was instantly struck by her natural beauty and easy charm. And he was more than a little curious about her connection to Mike.

Teasingly, she had challenged him to take her for a drink and she would 'come clean', as she put it. Intrigued, and badly in need of a change of scene, knowing that Mike would be just fine if he left for a couple of hours, he suggested the nearby bar and she eagerly assented.

Now, she was bringing him up to speed with regards to her recent past, and why she had to change her name. A sweet melancholia coloured her features. "Ah, Ben Jarris. He really was the love of my life, but the man had a death wish, I really believe that now. He should never have gotten involved with the mob but the lure of all that money…? Well, let's just say, Ben could never say no to an easy buck."

"So how in hell did you end up here in San Francisco?"

"Well, like I said, I was Ben's private secretary and when the shit hit the fan, so to speak, and I had to run – first, stupidly, to Chicago and my bastard brother-in-law, may he rest in peace – I remembered hearing about a 'Frisco cop - " She stopped abruptly at Steve's wince. "Oops, sorry, I forgot – and I even got the lecture from Mike, can you believe it? _San Francisco_ cop," she corrected with a chuckle, "who they'd tried to bribe and then threaten but he didn't cave and I thought, 'That's the guy I gotta get to.' And that was Mike, of course."

Steve nodded, frowning. "Yeah, we were still partners then. I remember he got an envelop with twenty-five grand in it and he turned it over to our captain, then a few days later he got roughed up in front of his house when he got home one night. They bruised a couple of ribs and gave him a black eye but he was okay and all it did was get him madder, but it was kinda scary there for awhile. I thought they'd try to take him out but they just left him alone after that."

"Well, you know as well as I do that a straight-arrow cop is worth his weight in gold – and I picked a winner when I managed to track him down." She smiled at the memory. "He was a little hesitant to believe me at first, but it didn't take long to convince him I was on the up-and-up. And boy, did he turn out to be my knight in shining armor – I couldn't have asked for more. He listened to me, he didn't treat me like this hysterical woman, and he was there when I needed him the most, when Ben was killed." Her smile disappeared as she thought of her late husband once more, her gaze far away, then she shook her head and smiled. "Not even when they blew up his car, he never even blamed me for that, and I think he loved that car, I really do," she laughed, and Steve found himself unable to resist joining in.

"Yeah, he told me about that. He got that car when it was brand new and it was less than a year old."

Maggie grinned, then finished off her martini. "Another?" she asked Steve. He looked at his less than half-full glass then back up at her and nodded. She turned towards the bar, caught the bartender's eye and gestured for refills.

"Anyway," she said slowly, continuing her narrative, "after all was said and done and I was turned over to the feds, heading first to Washington to be 'debriefed' and then to start a 'new life' with a 'new name' in a 'new city', well, there I was, no longer Maggie Jarris but now Katherine Dowd…and for some reason I couldn't stop thinking about Mike."

Steve's eyebrows rose slightly and she looked at him sideways, as if daring him to say something. Wisely, he kept his tongue.

"We'd made a bet, you see – after a year, if I was still around, I was gonna send him a buck. Big bet, I know," she said sarcastically, "but on short notice it was all I could think of to maintain some kind of connection with him. And, at the time, for some reason, that had become very, very important to me." Her voice had dropped so low he could barely hear her, her focus turning inward.

The waitress appeared at the table with their drinks, and Maggie shook herself back to the present.

"Anyway," she said quickly, almost embarrassed, "I decided I couldn't wait a year to get in touch with him again. I wanted to see if maybe what I thought I had felt when I was with him was in fact what I thought it was." She stopped, shook her head then laughed. "I'm sorry, that sentence didn't make any sense at all, did it?"

Steve chuckled. "Actually, it made all kinds of sense. It was a long and winding road but I managed to follow it," he grinned, and she shook her head with a warm smile, picking up her fresh martini glass and clinking it against his beer mug.

"Now I know why Mike loves you so much, Steven Keller," she said with a twinkle in her eye.

At the mention of Mike's name, they both hesitated slightly, suddenly remembering why they were there, what awaited them back at the hospital. Her face suddenly registered her fear and worry.

"I've known Mike for a long time, Maggie. He's gonna be okay," Steve said quietly, hoping his words masked his own uncertainty.

She looked intensely into his eyes then nodded slowly. She took a deep breath. "Anyway," she began again, "about a year ago, I called the department here and asked to speak to Dan. I asked him for Mike's home address and I wrote him. And, surprise surprise, he wrote me back. Then he called me and we talked. We talk a lot, two or three times a week." She stopped and looked down, running a fingertip around the top of her martini glass. "Do you remember about eight months ago when Mike had to go back east, Washington I think it was, for a two-day conference?"

Steve hesitated, looking at her with suspicious eyes under a furrowed brow. "Yes," he said, drawing the word out slowly.

She grimaced through her smile. "Well, that wasn't quite true. He actually flew to Pittsburgh. I met him there. Don't worry, we had separate rooms in different hotels. But we spent those two days together and went out to dinner and to a movie and a hockey game – that would be the Penguins – and we had a wonderful time." She stared at Steve enigmatically, as if waiting for the caustic retort she presumed would be coming.

Non-plussed, not having moved a muscle, Steve's grin was slow to build but he tamped it down before it got too big. "Really?" he said noncommittally. "Mike?"

Eyebrows raised, she nodded. "He didn't tell you, did he?" she asked innocently.

He cleared his throat. "Ah, no, he didn't."

She nodded again. "I sort of thought he wouldn't." She hesitated a moment, took a sip of her drink, patted her lips dry with the napkin, smoothed the napkin down on the table and, keeping her eyes lowered, asked quietly, "Then I guess he didn't go into much detail about that week-long fishing trip he took to Oregon three months ago either?"

Steve opened his mouth to say something, stopped, closed his mouth, frowned, then started again. "So what you're saying, I think, is Mike _didn't_ go to Oregon but went to Pittsburgh instead?"

"Uh, no," she said slowly, "we'd gone to Pittsburgh the first time because it was close to Washington, which is where he was 'supposed' to go, and near to where I am now living, actually. No, the second time we met in St. Louis – you know, sort of half-way between us…"

He stared at her, his expression unreadable. She was trying very hard not to smile.

He dropped his eyes and chewed his lip while he thought about what she just said then cleared his throat. "So, if I am reading you correctly here," he said slowly, amusement colouring his tone, "what you're trying to tell me is that you and Mike spent a 'dirty little weekend' together in St. Louis."

Her eyes bored into his and she smiled slyly, almost seductively, but her voice was tinged with exaggerated innocence. "Oh, no, Steven, we didn't spend a 'dirty little weekend' together." She paused dramatically. "We spent a 'dirty little _week'_ together." Her grin lit up her entire face.

For several long seconds, neither of them moved. Finally, with deliberate casualness, he took a sip of his beer, leaned back, and studied her face. He crossed his right arm over his chest, resting his left elbow on his right hand and his left hand under his chin.

"Mike?" he asked again, after an uncomfortably long pause. "Mike Stone? Tall? Wears a fedora? Knitted vests? ... Catholic?"

She laughed quietly and dropped her head, staring at the table. "And I'm Jewish," she shrugged. "And we're both adults." She stared into his eyes, hoping he would understand. Her smile disappeared. "It doesn't mean he doesn't love Helen and I don't love Ben any less." She paused again, collecting her thoughts.

She inhaled deeply and held her breath then let it out slowly and forcefully, facing him again, and he could tell that the playful banter was over. "Steve, I don't expect you to understand, but believe me when I tell you, my feelings for Mike are genuine. I'm not playing him along. We truly do have something, something real and sweet and honest. I'm not saying I love him in the way I loved Ben. That would be unfair to both of them."

She dropped her eyes and took a deep breath. "I broke a lot of 'rules' coming here. My cover is blown and I'm at risk again. But I don't care. I have a wonderful man in my life once more and I am not going to let him leave it without putting up a fight. I can't." He could see tears welling up in her eyes. "When Dan called me on Monday, I just knew I had to be here." She looked at him and smiled. "Yes, Dan knows about us. I don't think Mike knows that Dan knows, but he's been very sweet and discreet about it and he's been my rock these past few days."

"You've been here since Monday?" Steve asked, surprised.

"Tuesday morning, actually. I took a taxi in from the airport and I've been staying at Dan's. He's snuck me in a couple of times so I could see Mike; we didn't want to upset you and Jeannie so we decided I should keep a low profile."

She leaned across the table and laid a gentle hand on his forearm. "I'm not going to let him go, Steve, I can't. And I'm not going to go away. And just so you know," she continued, a bit of insouciance colouring her tone once more, "the minute he opens those beautiful blue eyes and looks at me, I'm going to ask him to marry me."

She sat back with a warm, self-satisfied smile and watched as his eyes narrowed and brow furrowed. "So," she said briskly, picking up her martini glass, "what do you have to say about that?" She stared at him over the rim as she took a sip.

Very slowly, Steve leaned forward, putting his forearms on the table, and stared into her eyes. The silence between them lengthened then, without looking, he nonchalantly reached out and picked up his beer mug. "There's only one thing _to_ say, Maggie Jarris – Mike Stone is the luckiest man in the world."

He raised his mug and gave her a wink. With a relieved laugh and a loving smile, she clinked her glass against his.


	8. Chapter 8

"You got the reports?" Haseejian bellowed as he strode into the Homicide squad room.

Lessing glanced up from his desk. "Yep," he said quickly as he got to his feet and picked up a stack of files.

Haseejian pulled the chair out from under his own desk and dropped into it. "Let's have a look," he said briskly as Lessing tossed the files down and took the guest chair at the side of the desk. The senior officer picked up the top folder and opened it.

Tanner hung up his phone and turned in their direction. "Bowman and Johnson are out on patrol and I'm having them come in. They were first on the scene and took the initial reports."

"Good," snapped Haseejian. "I want to have this little bastard in custody by the end of the day."

# # # # #

Steve was leaning back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. As tired as he was, he didn't dare close his eyes. They were all back in their usual places: Jeannie sitting very close beside him and Dan in a chair nearby, waiting, worrying. He didn't have to look at his watch to know that too much time had gone by and still no word.

He had returned to the waiting room after he and Maggie Jarris had left the bar the previous night, his mind racing. He had learned so much about his former partner that had heretofore been unknown and as he tried to relax on the old leather couch, sleep wouldn't come.

They had decided to keep Maggie's presence from Jeannie until Mike's health improved; having to deal with the fact that her father had an inamorata of whom she was unaware seemed an unfair burden to bestow upon the already overwhelmed young woman.

But Steve was dying to talk to Dan about it all. Unfortunately, Jeannie and the young cop had arrived together and there hadn't been a natural way of separating them that wouldn't arouse her suspicion.

Now, once more, concern had taken over and all they could do was wait. Dr. Somerset had been in to tell them that they wanted to start weaning Mike off the ventilator but in order to do so he needed to be conscious. So the decision had been made, in consultation with Mike's 'family', to reduce the sedative medications he was currently receiving and allow him to wake up, in which case morphine would be used to control the pain.

The procedure had begun a couple of hours earlier, and they were now awaiting word that Mike was conscious. They all knew it was going to be a very long day and a very long process but, indeed, it _was_ progress, something that had seemed in short supply recently.

Close to noon, Dr. Somerset entered the waiting room and approached them with a tired smile. "Your father is a very stubborn man," he said lightly to Jeannie, trying to break the tense mood as he sat beside her on the couch, glancing at all three. "So, we took him off the sedation medication but, unfortunately, he's still showing no signs of consciousness which, I have to admit, is a little worrying." At Jeannie's almost imperceptible gasp, he continued quickly, "But it's not surprising and not unanticipated. The body has a tendency to shut down when grievously injured, trying to heal itself, and one of those mechanisms is to protect itself from extreme pain. So we're going to increase his morphine drip and hopefully his brain will be fooled into thinking his body is healing and allow him to wake up."

With an avuncular sigh and patting her on the arm, Dr. Somerset said gently, "Don't worry, Jeannie, he's not the sickest patient we've had and we're pretty good at getting all our patients back on their feet and out of here. It's just gonna take some time, okay?"

She tried to nod hopefully, only partially succeeding. She felt Steve's arm snake around her shoulders and squeeze.

"Thank you, Doctor Somerset," Steve said, pulling Jeannie a little closer. Dan stood and shook the doctor's hand as the surgeon rose and, with one last pat of Jeannie's shoulder, left the room.

She laid her head against Steve's chest and he felt her hot tears soak through the thin fabric of his shirt. He kissed the top of her head. Dan, seeming at a loss for what to do or say, turned slowly, crossed the room and wandered out into the corridor, moving in the direction of the bank of payphones. Steve smiled to himself.

# # # # #

They were flanking either side of the brown wooden door with '2B' crudely written on it in magic marker. Their .38's were pointed up, their fingers on the triggers. Haseejian nodded to Tanner, then moved quickly in front of the door, raised his right leg and drove his foot into the door. The flimsy wood around the lock splintered and the door shot open.

As Haseejian caught his balance, Tanner pushed past him into the room, his .38 now shoulder-high as he crouched, both his gun and his eyes sweeping the empty room. Then Haseejian was behind him and they fanned out, quickly checking the rooms, the closets, under the bed. But the place was empty.

"Damn it," Haseejian growled as he strode back into the filthy, cluttered living room, holstering his .38. "Let's just hope this little dirt bag is still in town. I want an APB out now and I want everybody to know we want this little bastard and we want him alive."

# # # # #

The detectives walked into an almost empty Hall of Justice and took the elevator up to the third floor. Mayor George Moscone's funeral had been held that morning, and those whose presence at the Hall was not mandatory had been in attendance. As Tanner peeled off towards the Homicide Bureau, Haseejian made his way to Captain Roy Devitt's office, needing to bring his superior officer up to speed.

It had been a frustrating few days for the Armenian detective. The back-to-back shocks of the assassinations and the shooting of his boss had shaken him deeply. And then, with the realization that Mike Stone's injuries were severe enough that he would no longer be allowed to work the streets, the final straw.

Now, he had only one goal, one thing he needed to get done: to oversee the arrest and conviction of the punk who had put three bullets into Mike's chest - the last one, he had since discovered, at extremely close range. Then, and only then, would he take the time to decide his future. He couldn't conceive of San Francisco Homicide without Mike Stone at the helm; it might be time to transfer to Robbery, like Healey, or pull the pin altogether.

# # # # #

The half-wheel of pizza lay in the open box on the table near the couch, the cheese congealing, and a handful of soda cans were scattered nearby. The long afternoon had dragged by, punctuated only occasionally by brief, innocuous snippets of conversation.

They had all tried to sleep at one point or another, unsuccessfully. It was impossible to drag their thoughts away from what was going on mere yards away in another room. Though they would have denied it, a pall of helpless inevitability had seemed to settle over them, and it was becoming more and more difficult to feel any sense of optimism.

As the sun began to set, Steve crossed to the window, leaning against the sill and resting his forehead against the cool pane. The strain of the past few days was starting to seep into his soul and there was a feeling of impending doom washing over him that he was finding almost impossible to dispel. He'd never felt this way before and it scared him.

He stared at Jeannie's reflection in the window. She was curled up on the couch, staring into space. He knew exactly what she was thinking. His heart was breaking, for her, for Dan, for himself. He closed his eyes and drew in a slow deep breath, trying to control the shaking that had just begun - the product, he knew, of fatigue and worry.

He turned away from the window and was just about to head back to the couch when a very weary-looking Dr. Somerset appeared in the entrance and scanned the room. Jeannie's head came up quickly and she sat up; Dan got up from a nearby chair and crossed to her.

Steve joined them as Dr. Somerset approached. The surgeon sighed heavily, as if collecting his thoughts, then, dispensing with formalities, looked the young woman in the eyes. "Miss Stone, how would you and Mr. Keller like to come with me and talk to your Dad? I think he really needs to see you both right now."

# # # # #

As Steve and Jeannie donned the protective clothing once again, Dr. Somerset continued to fill them in. "Now remember he's not going to be able to talk to you, and he's still very groggy, but he's awake and responding to commands, which is all we can hope for right now. I told him to blink once for yes and twice for no."

As Jeannie nodded, unable to stop smiling, and pulled the mask over her mouth and nose, Dr. Somerset pushed open the heavy wooden door and they entered the room ahead of him. Jeannie crossed quickly to the bed, Steve a little more sedately behind her, trying to get his relieved trembling and pounding heart under control.

Head back on the upraised bed and eerily still, Mike's eyes were closed. Bandages encircled his entire chest; he was still hooked up to the heart monitor and electrocardiogram, the IV and the ventilator, but somehow he looked different. As Jeannie reached out and grabbed his left hand, his eyes fluttered open.

"Daddy," she said tentatively, then more firmly, "Mike…"

She was too short to lean over the bed so he could see her and she glanced back at Steve anxiously. But to her overwhelming relief, Mike slowly turned his head in the direction of her voice and when their gazes locked, she could see the recognition in his eyes.

"Daddy," she whispered with a catch in her voice as he stared at her and she felt his fingers close around her hand.

"Here," she heard Dr. Somerset say quietly, and she felt the crossbar of a wooden stool touch the back of her legs. Grateful, she stepped onto the crossbar and then knelt on the stool, now tall enough to lean over the bed. Resisting the urge to take off her mask and give her father a proper kiss, she settled for staring into his eyes.

Steve had crossed around to the other side of the bed and gently slipped his hand into Mike's, careful to avoid the IV line. When his other hand came to rest lightly on the top of Mike's head, the older man briefly closed his eyes, turning slightly to look in Steve's direction.

Suddenly, disturbingly, a feeling of déjà vu washed over Steve – he was in the bed, with a masked Jeannie and Mike looking down on him, a relieved Mike smiling and giving him a comforting wink. And he could remember very clearly how terrified he had felt, knowing he had been wounded but not knowing how badly, needing the reassurance of a familiar voice, a familiar touch.

Shuddering, he gave Mike's hand a tight squeeze and leaned a little closer. He smiled broadly under the mask, knowing it would be reflected in his eyes, and he winked. The hand in his tightened its grip. "Hi," he said quietly, and Mike blinked.


	9. Chapter 9

Dan hung up the payphone and turned back towards the waiting room, smiling. For once, the call he had just made was an optimistic one, but it was a previous comment that had sent him reeling. As Steve and Jeannie left to follow Dr. Somerset to Isolation, Steve had turned to him and said, sotto voce, "Go give Maggie the good news."

He was too stunned to move at first – how in the hell did Steve know about Maggie? They had been so careful. And then he realized what must have happened, and that her late return to his place was not because she had gone for a last minute dinner, as she he told him, but because she had been caught out. And as Steve had been the only one still at the hospital…

She'd confessed as much when he called, thrilled and comforted with his news and forthright about the previous night. She filled him in on what she and Steve had discussed, about her remaining in the background until her presence could be explained to Jeannie. And she wondered aloud how long that was going to be; there were things she needed to talk to Mike about.

Shaking himself back to the present, Dan spun abruptly and strode back to the phones. There was one other important call he had forgotten to make.

# # # # #

'Yeah, thanks, Dan, thanks… Yeah, I'll tell the guys. You give him our best, okay?... And Steve and Jeannie too… Yeah, you too. Talk to you soon, Dan." Lessing hung up the phone and turned to the bullpen. "Fellas!" he yelled to get their attention, "that was Dan –"

"No kidding, really?" Tanner interrupted wryly, raising an eyebrow. Then he laughed and said gently, "I'm sorry, go on."

Lessing shot him a look then continued. "He just wanted us to know that Mike's regained consciousness and they're going to start taking him off the ventilator."

There were relieved shouts, sighs and comments all around. Tanner, glancing once more at Lessing in apology, headed out the door to Captain Devitt's office. Haseejian picked up his phone. "I'll give Rudy a shout. Let him know." He flipped open his Rolodex to find the number.

Six months earlier, Captain Rudy Olsen has finally retired, but he and Mike had stayed close and they knew their old superior was worried about his longtime friend. Finally Haseejian was able to call him with good news.

But that was the only good news in the homicide department that day. The one open case was a businessman killed in a downtown hotel, and Tanner and Lessing were handling that one. The others were working cold cases; that is, everyone but Haseejian, who was still working on Mike's, even though it didn't fall into his purview.

And he still had nothing. Mike's shooter had been identified as one John Lewis Stanton, a 16-year-old from Mill Valley who had come into The City as a runaway 13-year-old and lived on the streets ever since. Tall for his age, and looking much older, he'd quickly turned street hustler, drug mule and, lately it seemed, heroin addict.

He had a rap sheet half a mile long, all misdemeanours, but because of his youth had served no real jail time. The one instance he'd been 'fostered out' he had run away, but his foster family didn't want him back anyway.

All normal search avenues had been exhausted, and Haseejian was close to the very edge of his patience in this matter. He wanted Stanton caught and caught now. Every time he looked at this kid's mug shot he could picture the 'little bastard', as he was becoming known around the squad room, pumping three bullets into Mike's chest, the last one while his boss was on the floor and unconscious.

Chances were, if and when he was caught and charged, Stanton would be tried as a juvenile. Even shooting a cop wouldn't be enough to have him put away for long. And that fact had been eating away at the Armenian detective since the identification had been made. Norm Haseejian hadn't smiled in a long time, and that was not like him at all.

# # # # #

Dan was still in the waiting room when Steve and Jeannie returned from visiting Mike. She crossed the room quickly and wrapped him in a relieved and joyous hug. "Dan, he's awake, he's awake," she laughed, relaxing for the first time in days. He held her tightly then she pulled back and looked up at him, her eyes bright with happy tears.

"That's wonderful, Jeannie, it really is," he said genuinely, looking over at Steve, who was standing nearby, also looking upbeat but exhausted, as he knew they all were. They exchanged warm, grateful smiles, then Steve looked back at Mike's daughter.

"Come on, Jeannie," he said, "you promised."

Dan looked at her with a confused frown, as Jeannie turned back to Steve and gave him a loud cartoonish sigh. "All right, you win," she said with a chuckle as she looked around the waiting room for her purse, which waited for her on the couch.

The men looked at each other and grinned. It was wonderful to have the effervescent Jeannie they knew and loved back amongst them, if only for these few brief moments of respite from the tension surrounding her father. But for the first time since Monday, they all felt that maybe, just maybe, Mike was going to come out of all this the Mike Stone he had always been.

"What are you two…?" Dan asked.

Before she could say anything, Steve explained. "They're going to give Mike the night off, so to speak, and not start weaning him from the ventilator till tomorrow morning, so I made her promise me that we would both go home and get a good night's sleep so we could be here for him all day tomorrow and not be walking around like zombies."

"And I agreed," she said, slinging her purse over her shoulder as she joined them. "So we're going home – well, homes. He's going back to Berkeley." She looked at Dan. "You should go home too," she said seriously. "You look beat."

He smiled. "I will. I just might go in and see your father for a few minutes, if they'll let me."

"Oh, I'm sure they will," Jeannie said encouragingly. "He'd love to see you." She gave him a peck on the cheek then moved past Steve towards the entrance and turned back. "And get some sleep, Dan, please. Mike'll know if you don't," she smiled as she left the room.

Snagging his jacket from the back of nearby chair, Steve stopped beside Dan as he began to follow. He smiled enigmatically then said softly, "You might want to wait till she gets here so you can go in to see Mike together." And with that he was out the door, leaving an open-mouthed Dan Robbins standing in his wake.

# # # # #

It was only 6:45 but it seemed so much later when Dan, gowned, gloved and masked, entered the Isolation room and quietly approached the bed. Mike's eyes were open and he turned his head as far as the ventilator would allow to see who this new visitor was. Beaming, Dan got closer, putting his hand on Mike's forearm and leaning forward slightly.

"How ya doin', boss?" he asked with a smile in his voice, sounding very much like Haseejian, and he was pleased to see Mike's eyes crinkle in warm recognition. "I told you those sandwiches would kill ya," he joked, knowing that Mike would be able to recognize the love and worry behind his words.

Mike's eyes shone with tears and his fingers moved. Dan slid his hand down Mike's forearm, grabbed his hand and squeezed. They stared at each other for several long moments.

Eventually Dan cleared his throat slightly. "Ah, you feeling up to another visitor?" he asked, and Mike blinked once very slowly. Dan smiled broadly under the mask. "I'll go get 'em," he said, giving Mike's hand another squeeze before letting it go.

When Dan moved out of his sight, Mike moved his head back to stare at the ceiling. Keeping his head turned made the tube irritate his throat even more and he was already extremely uncomfortable. He closed his eyes, letting the machine do the work, floating in a thin layer of consciousness that was quickly slipping away.

He thought he heard the door open and close again and fought to stay awake, but it was getting harder and harder. Then he felt a hand on his and he knew instantly that this one was different, this wasn't Dan or one of the guys.

With the last of his rapidly waning strength he opened his eyes, struggling to focus on the face that seemed to hang mere inches from his own. He blinked slowly, straining, and as the dark brown eyes began to solidify before him, a gloriously familiar voice crooned softly, "Hello, gorgeous!"

Tears sprung to his eyes and the beeps of the heart monitor suddenly started coming closer together. Maggie quickly reached up and laid her gloved hands on either side of his face. "Ssh ssh ssh," she comforted him, realizing that her sudden appearance may have been too much for him right now. "We don't want the nurses running in here thinking I gave you a heart attack," she said quietly, warmth in her voice.

She continued to stroke his beard-stubbled cheeks, staring into his eyes as he relaxed under her touch. From the corner of her eye she saw his left hand moving and realized he was trying to reach for her. She picked up his hand and brought it to her masked face, holding it against her cheek. The beeps of the monitor started to come further and further apart.

He was fighting against the pull of the morphine, desperately wanting to stay awake. She could see him weakening. "Go to sleep, don't fight it," she whispered, "I'm not going anywhere, I'll be here with you… we'll have lots of time together… go to sleep…"

Gradually his eyes closed and the beeps evened out. She remained where she was, staring at his face, her smile slowly disappearing. Only when she was sure that he couldn't see or hear her anymore, the tears that she had been holding back began to fall. And for the first time she whispered the words that she been longing to say for a very long time.

"I love you."


	10. Chapter 10

Dan came into the waiting room with two large paper bags, placing them on the table in front of the couch. Jeannie leaned forward and opened one of the bags. "Thanks, Dan," she smiled as she started to take out the cups of coffee and put them on the table.

"You're welcome," the young cop nodded as he opened the second bag, leaving it where it was. Steve walked over from the window to join them. Though they were back in the same room, waiting once more for word about Mike, the atmosphere was very different. The optimism that had proved so elusive earlier in the week was now easily within their grasp.

"Any word?" Dan asked as Steve reached into the second bag and picked out a Danish.

Taking a bite, Steve shook his head. "Somerset did say it could take hours." At seven that morning, the procedure to wean Mike from the ventilator had begun. They had been warned that it would definitely be several hours, it could take all day or, in what was termed the 'worst case scenario', the first attempt would prove unsuccessful and they would have to try again tomorrow. But Somerset was confident – the progress Mike had shown in the past 24 hours was very encouraging.

Dan watched Steve move back towards the window with his Danish and coffee. Since they had arrived that morning, Steve had been avoiding him, and Dan was pretty sure he knew why. The few times he had caught Steve's eye, the slightly older man had looked at him with barely suppressed impish glee. Neither of them wanted Jeannie to catch on and be left having to explain Maggie to Mike's daughter before the time was right. So they had stayed away from each other, Dan even volunteering to go out for their breakfast. But Jeannie was almost as observant as her father and was sure to see through them sooner or later.

Dan had just slumped into a chair, taking the lid off his tea, when Haseejian, Tanner and Lessing came through the door. "How's Mike doing?" Lessing said when they got closer, dispensing with formalities. Steve joined them, nodding his greetings, watching as the three cops almost instantly relaxed, sensing the change of mood in the room.

Jeannie explained what was going on and that it could take several more hours until they heard anything definitive. Steve watched the others as Jeannie talked, and he could sense in his old friend Norm Haseejian a troubling undercurrent of anger that was abnormal for the usually good-natured detective.

When Jeannie had finished, Steve asked, "So how are things going? Any progress in Mike's case?" His tone was conversational but he was bringing all his cop instincts back into play as he studied Haseejian's response.

The Armenian detective took a breath and closed his eyes before replying. As he was heading up the investigation, the others deferred to him. "Well, we've identified the kid but we haven't been able to track him down yet. But we will. He's not going to get very far." The passion in his voice was unmistakable and Lessing and Tanner exchanged glances, an action not lost on their former colleague. It seemed he wasn't the only one who'd noticed the uncharacteristic behaviour. Steve made a mental note to talk to them about it when the opportunity presented itself.

Dan looked at Jeannie then turned to Lessing. "How's The City holding up? It's been a hell of a week, huh?"

Tanner threw a grateful glance Dan's direction, happy to change the subject. "There's still a lot of shock out there. Mayor Feinstein – and wow, how weird is it to say that? – is doing a pretty good job so far keeping the lid on everything. There's been very little violence. People are just hurting, you know? There's still a feeling of disbelief out there."

"What's going on with White?" Steve asked.

Lessing snorted mirthlessly. "Well, he confessed outright when he turned himself in but talk is that when it comes to the trial, he's gonna try to plead 'diminished capacity' or something like that. He's gotta be the most hated man in The City right now, hands down."

They all nodded, sobered by the events of the past week that seemed so beyond the pale. And coming so close on the heels of Jonestown, it would be weeks, if not months or years, before The City would be able to put this horrific period to rest.

"Well," Steve said softly, hoping to break the mood, "at least things here seem to be looking up." He told them about Mike's progress, now awake and responding, and the doctors optimism for his full recovery.

"But he still won't be able to go back on the streets, will he?" Haseejian asked, almost rhetorically, his tone heavy with depression.

With a shake of his head, hoping to break the mood, Steve slapped the older man on the back. "That may be, Norm, but we still have him, right?"

Haseejian stared at Steve, unblinking, then he nodded. "You're right, you're right," he smiled apologetically, as if seeming to realize how his own mood was affecting the others.

The detectives had to get back to work but they left feeling more optimistic than when they'd arrived. As they disappeared down the hall, Steve shot a quick glance at Dan and the returning look told him that he, too, had noticed the change in Haseejian. Now more than ever, Steve wanted to pull Dan aside so they could discuss this, as well as Maggie, without Jeannie knowing, but for the moment, that seemed an impossible task.

Suppressing a frustrated sigh, Steve returned to the couch and sat, picking up his coffee and taking a gulp. He felt Dan's eyes on him but resisted the urge to respond. Beside him, Jeannie, blissfully unaware, sipped her coffee, staring across the room through the window, her mind obviously back on her father.

# # # # #

At 2:45 in the afternoon, a tired but ebullient Dr. Somerset strolled into the waiting room. His expression told them everything they needed to know before he had a chance to cross the room. "So, are you ready for some good news?" he asked with a wide smile.

"Really?" Jeannie asked with a matching grin.

Nodding, the surgeon sat down beside her as Steve and Dan stood over them. "Not only did we wean your father from the ventilator in almost record time but he's already been moved upstairs to a private room. He's doing extremely well. He's fully awake and talking, although his throat is very sore and his voice is raspy and will be for awhile."

Overjoyed, Jeannie glanced up at Steve and Dan, her own relief reflected in their faces as well.

"So, give us an hour or so to get him settled in and allow him to rest for a bit – it was quite a morning – and then you, all three of you," he included Dan in his glance, "can go up and spend some time with him. I'm sure everybody'd really like that, am I right?" he finished with a chuckle, buoyed by their obvious elation.

"You have no idea," Dan said quietly while the others laughed, almost weak with relief.

# # # # #

They were riding up to the fourth floor with Dr. Somerset. "So he's now in the hands of Dr. John Webster; he's our pulmonary specialist and he and his staff will oversee Mike's care from here on out. You'll have nothing to worry about, they are the best."

The elevator arrived and the doors slid open. Somerset led the way out, turning to the right. They followed him through what seemed to be a small maze of corridors and turns until they came to halt outside Room B442.

"Ready?" Dr. Somerset asked, looking at Jeannie, and she nodded, taking a deep breath, not sure what to expect. Beaming, Somerset pushed the door open and the three younger people stepped into the room, all slightly taken aback upon seeing the empty bed.

"Hi," a somewhat familiar but gravelly voice said quietly from their right and three pairs of startled eyes snapped in that direction.

Jeannie caught her breath and brought a hand to her mouth, Steve and Dan froze, wide-eyed. "Oh my god," Dan said quietly.

Wearing a beige robe over a blue hospital gown, socks and slippers, a weak, pale, slightly groggy but smiling Mike Stone was sitting in a large upholstered armchair, a light blanket around his shoulders.

"Daddy?" Jeannie gasped, stunned, suddenly incapable of moving, and her father, unable to tear his eyes from her face, reached out as best he could with a trembling left hand towards her. Crying, she suddenly found her feet and crossed the short distance to him quickly. She grabbed his hand in both of hers, trying to control the urge to embrace him.

"You can hug me," he said raspily, his voice almost unrecognizable, "just be careful."

Giggling with joy and relief, she opened her arms, leaned closer and wrapped them gently around her father's shoulders, her head against his. Unable to lift his arms, Mike had to settle for putting his hands on her sides and holding her that way, but the mere touch alone was more than enough for father and daughter.

Mike looked beyond her head towards Steve and their eyes locked and held. Steve's grin got even wider and he winked; Mike winked back. Then Steve's expression turned serious, he took a deep unsteady breath, shaking his head slowly and his eyes shone brightly. Mike closed his eyes and nodded. They both knew how close they had come once again.

As Mike released his daughter and she moved back almost reluctantly, his gaze turned to his partner. Dan took a tentative step forward and put his hands out, taking Mike's left in both his own. "Jeez, you look great, you really do," he said in amazement, "I thought you'd be lying on that," he gestured towards the bed, "for a couple a weeks or so. I wasn't expecting this."

Mike nodded carefully; everything hurt or so it felt. "It's got something to do with circulation and getting my lungs working again, something like that…" he explained slowly, keeping his voice low. He was trying not to let the pain show.

Jeannie turned to Steve, wide-eyed and excited, thrilled to see her father doing so much better than she had anticipated. As they exchanged a few words, Dan glanced at them over his shoulder then quickly turned back to Mike, leaning in very close. "She doesn't know about Maggie yet," he whispered quickly, hoping Mike understood. The older man looked at him in confusion, then smiled slightly and nodded.

Relieved, Dan pulled back before Jeannie caught him, pumped Mike's hand a couple of times with a grin then stepped away. It was Steve's turn, and the former partners locked eyes again as he stepped towards the chair. He leaned forward, putting both hands on the sides of Mike's head, pulling him slightly forward so they were forehead to forehead. He looked deep into Mike's eyes, saying quietly, "Don't you ever do that to me again," then, with a huge grin, planted a big wet kiss on Mike's forehead.

Jeannie and Dan laughed affectionately as Mike chuckled carefully, wrapping his arms lightly around his chest. "I promise," he whispered. Steve stood back, staring at his old partner, then glanced up at Somerset, who was still standing near the door. "I don't know where to begin to thank you," he said to the surgeon, who just shook his head.

"It wasn't just me," Somerset said earnestly, "and believe me, this," he gestured at them all, "is payment enough. Mike," he said as he took a step towards his now former patient, "you're out of my hands now. Best of luck, but I'm thinking you might not need it, not with these three on your side." He shook Mike's left hand.

"Thanks, doc, I owe you," Mike said slowly, trying to keep his emotions in check.

A brief awkward silence filled the room after the doctor left. "Ah," Dan started, a little louder than he'd intended, "Mike, are you allowed to eat?"

Smiling, Mike nodded. "Soft stuff," he said, gesturing slightly towards his throat.

Dan nodded back. "Good, good. Well, what's say I head down to the cafeteria and get us all some ice cream. How does that sound?"

Jeannie looked at him with delight. "That sounds perfect. Strawberry for me – and for Dad too, right?" Mike nodded.

"Steve?" Dan prompted when the bearded professor just stood there, staring into space.

Shaking himself, Steve chuckled, caught out. "Oh, ah, chocolate, thanks."

Dan eyed him exasperatedly as he headed for the door. He knew Steve was on to him – that the trip to the cafeteria was an excuse to leave the room to call Maggie.

# # # # #

Maggie Jarris slammed the front door of the apartment and bounced down the stairs towards the waiting taxi. Since she'd received the phone call from Dan mere moments ago, she couldn't stop smiling. And now she was on the way to fulfill a promise she had made to herself not so long ago, a promise that hopefully would bind her to the one person in the world she knew could make her whole again.

As the DeSoto cab pulled away from the curb, neither she nor the driver noticed the dark blue sedan that slipped out of the space a half block behind, sedately following them down the street and around the corner.


	11. Chapter 11

**Many thanks to all who are reading and those who take the time to review. Much appreciated. This is just a gentle warning that I may not be able to keep up with a chapter a day - real life is going to be interfering for next little while, but I will do my best! But don't worry, I will be hard at work when the time permits!**

Jeannie sat beside her father, finishing her cup of ice cream. They had pulled chairs into a small circle around him, chatting and laughing as they relished not only the tasty treat but the simple fact that Mike was back amongst them.

He could raise his forearms to feed himself, but anything more challenging was out of the question for the time being. At one point he began to cough, and the agony he went through was difficult for them to witness. Steve had braced his shoulders till the coughing stopped and the pain subsided, pain even the morphine still in his system couldn't alleviate.

In due course Dr. Webster and a resident, Dr. Carter, entered the room and introduced themselves to everyone, pleased to see the oh-so-important support Mike was getting from family and friends.

"Well, Mr. Stone – "

Steve cleared his throat, grinning, and said in a loud stage whisper, "That's _Lieutenant_ Stone."

"Ah, _Lieutenant_ Stone, pardon me," Dr. Webster corrected himself with raised eyebrows and a chuckle, pleased to see Mike's genial grin, "I think we better get you back in bed. You've had a busy day and you need the rest."

Anticipating the discomfort, Mike nodded with grim inevitability. "Call me Mike, please," he asked with a wan smile, bracing himself for what was to come.

The others stood and pulled their chairs back so the doctors could get closer to their patient. Jeannie looked at Steve anxiously and he smiled reassuringly. Carter made sure the covers were pulled down and the bed was ready, then he joined Webster on opposite sides of Mike's chair. "Are you ready, sir?"

Mike nodded, closing his eyes and visibly tensing. Taking the blanket off his shoulders, the doctors put one hand under each arm and the other on his elbows. "All right, Mike, on three, okay?" Webster instructed encouragingly. "One, two, three." The doctors lifted him slowly and carefully as Mike got his legs under himself and stood, eyes squeezed shut, face etched in pain, holding his breath. Once erect, they helped him take the small steps to the bed, sit and then lie back against the raised bed head, every movement filled with what seemed like blinding agony.

Three pairs of eyes watched him in concern, holding their own breaths, awed by his strength and determination. Jeannie brushed tears from the corners of her eyes.

They got him settled, reattaching the IV line to the cannula on the back of his right hand. Mike lay still, eyes closed, breathing shallowly, letting the pain subside as the morphine kicked in. Webster continued to monitor his patient as Carter took his leave, nodding at the others encouragingly. Webster had his stethoscope out and they could hear him talking to the older man in low tones as he moved the diaphragm to various places on Mike's chest and paused to listen. Eventually they could hear a familiar murmur as Mike responded to the doctor's questions and they relaxed slightly.

When Webster stepped away from the bed, Mike's eyes were open and he seemed more at ease. Steve was the first to smile. Jeannie glanced up at him, realizing that her father was doing a lot better and stepped towards the bed. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, stroking his hair. "Goodnight, Daddy, try to get some sleep, okay?"

"Goodnight, sweetheart," Mike whispered weakly.

As she and the doctor moved towards the door, Dan stepped forward. He smiled warmly. "I'll see you tomorrow, partner," he said softly, relieved when Mike nodded with a smile.

Steve crossed to the bed, his grin now gone. He stared into Mike's eyes, and Mike stared back. "You gonna be okay?" Steve asked quietly, and Mike smiled slightly and nodded. Steve felt Mike's hand on his and the weak but very welcome squeeze. "I'll be back tomorrow morning."

Trying to smile, Steve stepped back then turned and joined the others at the door. After they had gone, Mike closed his eyes, letting the tears of pain and love trickle slowly down his cheeks.

# # # # #

Webster gathered them together in the corridor before they all headed off. "I just want to reassure you as to how well Mike is doing. Considering the extent of his injuries, and the fact that both lungs were involved, well, it's nothing sort of miraculous that he has come this far this fast. He's got a ways to go, of course, but from what we're seeing so far, he'll be going home before you know it."

Jeannie nodded but her eyes still showed her concern. "He's just in so much pain. How long will that last?"

Webster sighed. "Well, a lot of that depends on him, but considering he was shot three times and had three major thoracic surgeries, and that we have to get him off the morphine as soon as possible and onto something less addictive, I think he's managing it very well so far. We've had patients scream when we got them to their feet the first time."

They relaxed even more the longer the doctor spoke, and he smiled encouragingly. "Tomorrow we'll get him back in the chair a few times during the day - that's to aid in circulation, and prevent pneumonia and blood clots from developing; we've got him a device called a spirometer that he blows into to help his lung capacity, and in a couple of days we'll get him up and walking around. You may have him home within a week."

# # # # #

They were riding down in the elevator together, blissfully alone. An exhausted but comfortable silence rode with them. As the doors opened on the parking level and they got out, Jeannie glanced at her watch then turned to the two men.

"You know, it's barely past six. I know we all want to get a good night's sleep but, hey… I have an idea," she said slowly, looking from one to the other with wide eyes. "Why don't we stop at a grocery store on the way to my house, get some steaks – and tofu or whatever," she glanced at Dan with a grin, "and veggies that I can grill, a bottle of wine or two and some beer, and I will cook you guys a good home-cooked meal and we can unwind and toast Mike's continuing recovery." She stopped, waiting for some kind of response.

Steve and Dan, who both had remained stone-faced throughout her spiel, now looked at each other, deadpan. After several silent seconds, they turned back to her at the same time, but still said nothing.

Glancing quickly from one to the other but not getting any response, Jeannie finally, in exasperation, yelled, "What?!"

His expression not changing, Dan said flatly, "You know, you sound a lot like your father when you say that."

She glared at him with wide eyes, losing her patience. Finally Steve started to smile then chuckle and he glanced at Dan, who began to smile as well. "Jeannie, that's a great idea," Steve laughed gently, "I'd love to come, really."

"Me too," nodded Dan, smiling apologetically, "it's just, you know, you have these buttons that are so easy to push sometimes."

"Just like Mike," Steve agreed, turning to Dan with a confirming nod.

"God, if I didn't love you guys I'd punch your lights out right now," Jeannie growled good-naturedly as she spun on her heel and started towards Dan's car.

As she strode off in a simulated huff, Steve turned once more to the younger man. "That sounds like Mike too." Chuckling, they followed in her wake.

# # # # #

Maggie was cooling her heels in the gift shop in the lobby, waiting to make sure that the others had left before going up to the fourth floor. Finishing up at the cash register, she glanced once more at her watch. Pretty sure she had given them plenty of time, she took the elevator then found her way to Room B442. She raised her right hand to knock, then thought better of it. Instead she bit her lip, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and pushed the wooden door open.

She took two steps inside the room and let the door close quietly behind her as she stared at the bed. Mike, still dressed in the gown and robe, was lying back against the raised bed head, his eyes closed, asleep. A sheet and blanket were pulled up to his waist and an IV line was attached to the back of his right hand. And to her eyes, he looked absolutely wonderful.

She crossed to the bed quietly, putting her purse and gift shop paper bag on a nearby chair. Continuing to bite her lips, she leaned over the bed, staring at his face, careful not to make any contact, loathe to disturb him. When he didn't sense her presence, she stepped back, moved her purse and bag and sat in the chair, staring at his profile, content to wait until he realized she was there.

She was in no hurry.

# # # # #

"Where's Dan?" asked Steve as he came into the kitchen from upstairs, opening the fridge and taking out a beer. He had arrived after they did, opting to take a quick trip home to get some clean clothes. He had a feeling the night would be a long one and driving back to Berkeley after a few was not an option. He'd been lucky that the traffic was light and he was able to make the trip in near record time.

Standing at the counter chopping vegetables, Jeannie nodded towards the door. "He's in the backyard."

"Getting cold out there, isn't it?" Steve asked as he popped the cap off the beer, dropping it and the church key onto the counter.

"He's been out there for awhile," she said with a shrug. "It mustn't bother him."

"Anything I can help you with?" Steve asked perfunctorily, knowing what her answer would be before he even spoke.

"No, I'm fine, I've got this. Keep Dan company, will you?"

"Sure," he said amiably, smiling to himself, continually in awe of the Stone standard of hospitality. As he crossed behind her towards the door to the backyard, he stopped, slipped his arm around her neck gently, pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. She stopped chopping vegetables and melted against him, and they stood that way silently for several seconds, each knowing what the other was trying to convey.

He withdrew his arm and continued out the door, not looking back. She watched him go, so overwhelmingly thankful that he was a part of her life, now and forever. His love for her father had remained steadfast and true throughout the years, from the first moment they met, it seemed, and she adored him for that reason and so many more.

Steve stepped out onto the dark patio, lit only by one small bulb, on the chilly early December night. He stood for several long seconds, letting his eyes adjust to the late twilight, looking for his former colleague.

Dan was sitting on the top of the picnic table, facing away from the house. He hadn't acknowledged Steve appearance, something the older man found a bit strange. Electing to stay silent, Steve approached the table quietly, then stood on the seat and dropped down to sit beside his still reticent companion.

"Dark night, isn't it?" he asked casually, looking up at the moonless sky.

Dan didn't move. Steve waited several seconds then turned to him. "You okay?"

The young cop turned his head slightly, and Steve could see light reflecting off the tears that streaked his cheeks. Steve put his beer down quickly and turned on the table. "Jeez, Dan, what's wrong? What is it?"

Dan looked down and took a deep unsteady breath. He looked up at Steve, his face stricken, unable to talk. Steve nodded slowly, looking deep into the younger man's eyes, letting him know that he was in a safe place, then he picked up his beer, looked back up at the sky, and took a sip. He knew from experience what the younger man was going through, the guilt that was beginning to seep into his soul, the self-recrimination that inevitably follows when a partner is injured in the line of duty. He'd been there. He could help. But for now, he would have to wait, and that was all right.

He was in no hurry.


	12. Chapter 12

He opened his eyes slowly, allowing them to adjust to the fluorescent lights, fighting to focus. He wasn't in much pain as long as he didn't move, in thanks, he knew, to the morphine, and he willed himself to take slow, shallow breaths. He was sluggish, unable to marshal his thoughts with any kind of certitude. He knew he'd been shot and he knew he was in the hospital, but everything else was a blur at the moment.

Slowly, images came back to him - his daughter, Steve, Dan…all there, all talking to him. He smiled slightly; yeah, he remembered that. Right – that was just a few hours ago, wasn't it? Sighing carefully, he relaxed, staring at the far wall and the small TV that sat on a shelf high up in the corner. He remembered sitting in a chair, talking to the doctor; yes, it was all coming back… ice cream… Maggie. Maggie? No, that couldn't be right; what would she be doing here?

Almost imperceptibly, he became aware of another presence in the room, instinct telling him that he was not alone. As he began to turn his head, he felt a hand come to rest lightly on his left forearm and someone leaned towards him. Another hand was suddenly, gently caressing his right cheek and as he struggled to focus, warm soft lips pressed down on his, and he closed his eyes.

# # # # #

Steve had let the silence stretch between them for quite a while. He was content to give the younger man his time and space right now, so he listened to the comforting sounds of Jeannie at work in the kitchen, doing one of the things she loved: caring for the people in her life. A small twinge of sad regret briefly flitted over his face; the evening would be perfect if Mike were here to share it. But he took great consolation in knowing that that would indeed happen again; that their anchor, the sun around which they all revolved, was going to return.

Taking another sip of his beer, he turned to looked at the man beside him. "You wanna talk?' he asked quietly and though at first Dan didn't move, he finally shook his head slowly. Steve nodded to himself and put the beer down.

"I know what you're going through, you know. We all go through it. It's natural. For me it wasn't the first time Mike got hurt when we were partners. It was the second, when he was shot in the church. I was outside, watching the entrances; we had no idea the shooter was inside the church, in a confessional. He got to Mike when the service was over."

Steve paused and glanced at the young cop, who hadn't moved but did seem to be listening. Encouraged, he continued. "I felt like I should be been there for him, you know, then I coulda stopped it. Luckily, he wasn't hit that bad, it could've been a hell of a lot worse. But I felt guilty. And I found myself getting mad at him because _I_ was the one that felt responsible for him getting hurt.

"But you know what? There was nothing I could have done. I realized that later. We did everything we could've but something still happened. We talked about it, Mike and I. But you know what? When I got shot two years ago, the tables turned. I don't know if you were aware of it then, but Mike had a really hard time coming to terms with it. He pulled away from me. I thought at the time it was because I'd decided to leave the force…leave him. And sure, that had something to do with it, but there was a lot of guilt there, for him. He felt responsible for me getting shot, way more responsible than he should have, and nothing I could say to him would change his mind."

Steve stopped, ostensibly to take a sip of his beer but also to give Dan a chance to talk, should he care to. Dan had turned slightly towards Steve as the other had talked, and now half-turned so Steve could see one eye. Quietly, he asked, "What did you do?"

Steve smiled, both at the question and the memory. "We talked," he replied equally softly. "We just talked. We were always good at that. I told him he had nothing to feel guilty about, just like I didn't when he'd been shot years earlier."

"Did it help?"

Steve chuckled quietly. "I'm here, aren't I? I wasn't about to let him take himself out of my life. Look, one of the many things that Mike is so good at is talking. I can't begin to tell you how many times we'd go for a 'walk and talk' – to clear our heads, he'd say. Does he do that with you?"

Dan smiled slightly, for the first time that evening it seemed. "We've done it a couple of times."

"See?" Steve said warmly, "That's all you've got to do, Dan. Talk to him. Don't go blaming yourself if he doesn't blame you; it doesn't make any sense. It'll only tear you up, and put a monkey wrench into what's become a pretty special partnership, am I right?"

# # # # #

Maggie pulled back slightly, both hands now lightly on the sides of Mike's face. She looked into his eyes, smiling, as he stared at her, bewildered. "It's really me," she said happily, nodding, and once more watched as tears sprang to his eyes and he smiled back.

"I thought I'd dreamed you," he said quietly and she laughed.

"Well that might be, but I'm here in the flesh as well." She leaned forward and kissed him again then sat back, her features now lined with worry as she stroked his temples gently. "You had me so scared, Mike. I really thought I'd lost you. And I couldn't take that."

He had reached up with both hands and put them on her wrists, wanting to embrace her but knowing he wasn't able. Instead he held her as tightly as he could and looked into her eyes. "I'm not going anywhere," he said hoarsely.

"Good," she said with a growing smile, "'cause then I'd just have to go after you."

He chuckled softly then winced and closed his eyes. He released her wrists, laying both forearms lightly across his lower chest. Frowning, she sat on the edge of the bed, and put a hand gently over his. "You okay?"

He nodded slowly, keeping his eyes closed. She waited while he got the pain under control, then he opened his eyes and looked at her, puzzled. "How did you find out?" he asked quietly.

She grinned, squeezing his hand. "You can thank your partner for that. Dan called me when you were in surgery – the first time. He was terrified you weren't going to make it." She paused, knowing this was probably fresh news to him. "He wanted me to know. I caught the first flight out."

Mike was looking at her with such gratitude and adoration that she found herself choking up, unable to continue. "I'm glad you here," he whispered "and I'm so sorry."

"Oh my god, Mike, you have nothing to be sorry about. It's not like you did this on purpose, right?" She smiled at him warmly, her heart breaking at his selfless concern, and squeezed his hand tighter. "Look, I think you should go to sleep. I'm not going anywhere either. And we've gotta get you stronger, 'cause there's something really important we have to talk about."

Through half-closed eyes and with a small, knowing smile, he said softly, "The answer is yes, by the way."

She frowned and cocked her head. "Okay, smarty, what makes you think you know what I was going to say?" she chuckled.

"I'm a detective, remember?" He had closed his eyes, but the smile lingered.

"Oh, I see," she teased, "and what, pray tell, is the question I am supposed to be asking you?"

Mike opened his eyes, and his smile got wider. "Will you marry me?"

# # # # #

"Dinner's ready!" Jeannie yelled from the kitchen.

Still looking at Dan, Steve called over his shoulder, "We'll be right in!" He stared at his younger friend. "I'd rather Jeannie didn't know about this right now, okay? We still have to explain Maggie to her," he chuckled softly, hoping to lighten the mood.

Dan smiled slightly and nodded, quickly wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand.

Steve smiled and slapped him on the back.

"Good. I don't know about you, but I'm starving. And Jeannie never disappoints." He stepped down off the bench seat, picked up his beer bottle and headed for the door.

Dan took a deep breath, looking up once more at the moonless sky. He still hadn't shaken off the feelings of inadequacy and guilt that had increasingly overwhelmed him since the shooting, but Steve's little pep talk had certainly helped. He smiled slightly to himself; how lucky he was to have two such remarkable men in his life as Mike and Steve.

He slid off the picnic table and crossed towards the door, wiping at his eyes one last time. He could hear the light-hearted banter between Steve and Jeannie as he entered the house and he sighed happily. Things could only get better, he thought.

# # # # #

It was slightly before 8 a.m. when the three sleepy visitors walked down the hallway towards Room B442. Jeannie had been insistent that they pick up Mike's favourite breakfast Danish and coffee and bring it to him, having found out that he was allowed to eat anything he wanted. Her hope was to get her father on his feet and out of the hospital as soon as possible so she could care for him herself.

Jeannie moved ahead of the two men and approached the nurse's station. Steve had held back to talk to Dan. "We're gonna have to let her know about Maggie today," he reasoned, "it's not fair to either of them."

"You're right. Let me give Maggie a call and tell her to come in." He turned back towards the payphones, reaching into his pants pocket for some change. He stopped and turned back towards Steve. "Hey, you got a dime?"

Grinning, Steve reached into his own pocket as he crossed to the young cop. "You're becoming more and more like Mike every day," he chuckled as he handed over the coin.

Dan's annoyed frown turned to a smile as he closed his fist around the dime and continued towards the phones. "I'll take that as a compliment," he said over his shoulder.

Jeannie had finished talking to the nurses and came back towards Steve. "I told them I brought Mike's breakfast and they said that was fine. He hasn't eaten yet."

Steve was listening to her but had one eye on Dan at the bank of phones. Jeannie turned away again and headed towards the door to Mike's room. Dan hung up the phone and looked at Steve, shrugging and mouthing, "She's not there."

Steve's head swiveled towards Jeannie, who had pushed the door open slightly and was staring into the room but not moving. Slowly, she allowed the door to close then she turned away and started to walk back towards Steve, who had been joined by Dan. The two men braced themselves.

Jeannie looked up at Steve, her brow furrowed in confusion. "There's a woman in Mike's bed," she said quietly and haltingly.

Both men reacted; Steve snorted and looked away, Dan looked down and bit his lip, clearing his throat. As Steve looked back at Jeannie, he said quietly to Dan, "I sure hope it's Maggie." Dan's explosion of laughter caught Jeannie by surprise and she glared from one to the other.

"What?!" When they said nothing, she continued, "You know about this?! Both of you?!"

Properly chastised, they sobered up and looked at her, still having a hard time erasing the smirks from their faces. Steve looked at Dan and gave him the 'you first' gesture.

Trying not to smile too broadly, Dan looked her in the eyes. "Jeannie, her name is Maggie, and she's Mike's…girlfriend."


	13. Chapter 13

Jeannie looked from one uncomfortable man to the other. "What?" she repeated, even more weight behind that one word.

Steve cleared his throat, glancing quickly from Jeannie to Dan then back to the floor. "Ah, Dan, I think you can field this one better than me," he said quickly then headed off down the corridor. He could feel the young cop's eyes boring a hole in the back of his head.

Dan turned to Jeannie, tried unsuccessfully to chuckle the tension away, cleared his throat again and took a deep breath. "Well," he said, "ah, well, it's a long story…"

"I have the time," growled Jeannie with rapidly evaporating patience.

"Right," Dan said quietly again, stalling, "okay, ah, her name is Maggie Jarris, she…"

Dan's words faded away as Steve got closer to the hospital room. Smiling, he pushed the door open and looked in.

Indeed, there was a woman in Mike's bed. But then again, so was Mike. He was lying much as they had left him, elevated against the raised bed head, eyes closed and obviously asleep, his left forearm across his stomach. But he was much closer to the right edge of the bed now. Maggie was laying on his left, on her side, her head against his shoulder and her own left arm over his, their fingers entwined.

Steve's smile wavered slightly as he stared at his best friend, suddenly and overwhelmingly elated at the sight before him. If anyone ever needed something good to happen to them right now, it was Mike Stone. And if he himself was any judge of character, and he was pretty sure he was, Maggie Jarris didn't have to do too much more to convince him that she was the woman who could bring love back into Mike's life.

With one last glance at an obviously flustered Dan and an equally focused Jeannie, he stepped into the room and let the door close silently behind him. Taking a deep breath, making up his mind, he crossed towards the right side of the bed as quietly as he could. He stopped, reaching out to touch Maggie's arm, then hesitated, having second thoughts; they looked so peaceful he didn't want to disturb them but knew that it was going to be only a matter of minutes, if that, till Jeannie would be hot on his heels. Forewarned is forearmed, he firmly believed.

Maggie jumped at his touch, head spinning to face him. Her worried frown turned instantly into a warm smile. "Steve," she whispered, and they both glanced at Mike, who had groaned, his head moving slightly, but not awoken.

Steve smiled back. "Sorry, Maggie, but I need to talk to you."

She nodded. "Here, give me a hand," she said quietly as she raised herself and tried to slide off the bed without disturbing its occupant. He helped her slip down to the floor then she turned back to the bed. When Mike didn't move, she smiled at Steve and nodded with her head towards the door.

As they moved away from the bed, she took his arm and pulled him closer. She was gloriously happy and couldn't help but show it, and he grinned at her. "You asked him, didn't you?" he said, a twinkle in his eyes,

She nodded vigorously. "Yep."

"So, I'm assuming he said 'yes', am I right?"

She nodded again. "Yep. He's going to become Mr. Maggie Jarris." Her laugh was deep, throaty, sexy and very contagious.

Steve opened his arms. "Congratulations!" he said sotto voce and gave her a hug. She hugged him back then they pulled apart, both glancing towards the bed, but Mike still hadn't moved.

"So," she said, "what do you need to talk to me about? It's not serious, I hope – I don't think I could stand that right now."

Steve cleared his throat and glanced down then briefly towards the bed once more. "Mike's daughter Jeannie is about to come in and she, literally, just found out about you. Dan's filling her in on your…story right now, and depending how convincing he is, she's gonna come in here either loving you to death or running you out of town." He chuckled when Maggie's eyes widened. "Jeannie is just as wonderful as her father, I'm predicting the former," he finished with a confident nod and a grin.

"Well, I hope so, because I have no intention of giving him up," Maggie said with a smile. "Besides, I have a lot of charm, I've been told, and it even works on women sometimes." She touched his arm affectionately. "Thanks, Steve. It's wonderful to have you in our corner."

They both looked at the bed. "How is he?" Steve asked quietly.

Her face softened. "He had a good night, he really did. He's still in so much pain, but he hides it so well it frightens me. But he slept through the night, thank god."

"I can hear you, you know," came a quiet voice from the bed, and Mike's eyes opened slowly.

Chuckling, they moved closer, Maggie taking his left hand. Steve grinned and laid a hand on Mike's leg. "How're you feeling?"

"Wonderful," Mike said with a smile, his eyes settling on Maggie as he squeezed her hand.

"I hear congratulations are in order," Steve said with a Cheshire cat smile.

"You told him?" Mike asked Maggie, deadpan.

"I told him," she shrugged back, "so sue me." Then she smiled.

"Ah, you know, it wasn't a complete shock," Steve said mischievously, "Maggie and I go way back, you know." He looked at her, eyebrows arched, and she nodded in confirmation, then they both looked at Mike and shrugged. On Mike's baffled stare, Steve started to laugh. "I met her on Wednesday night, in CCU. You'd just come out of your last surgery and things were looking up so we, ah, took the opportunity to go grab a drink and get acquainted."

Mike's eyes widened as Steve spoke and he squeezed her hand harder.

"She kinda had an advantage over me," Steve continued lightly. "It seems you told her all about me…"

Mike looked at him guiltily then turned to Maggie. "I did?"

"Uh-hunh," she nodded.

"Oh," he said softly, and the other two laughed. Maggie leaned over the bed and gave him a kiss. Steve glanced over his shoulder.

"Listen, Mike, Jeannie's out in the hallway. She, ah, she opened the door earlier and saw you two…" He wiggled his right forefinger between them several times and Mike nodded in understanding. "Dan's, um, 'explaining' the situation."

"Got it," Mike said with a nod. He looked at Maggie sheepishly. "I'm sorry, this is my fault." He winced and took shallow breaths for a couple of seconds. "Let me talk to her –"

"Not on your life," Maggie interrupted, staring him down. "If anyone needs to talk to your daughter about us, it's me and I –"

They heard the sound of the door opening and all three froze, turning slowly to look. Jeannie was standing in the entrance, Dan behind her. Her expression was unreadable as her eyes travelled from her father to Steve to Maggie. She took a step into the room, releasing the door for Dan to catch and hold open, then crossed with determination up to Maggie. She held out her right hand. "Maggie Jarris, I'm Jeannie Stone."

Pulling back ever so slightly, and with a quick glance at Steve, Maggie started to extend her right hand but Jeannie grabbed it and squeezed. "I hear you want to marry my Dad?" Maggie froze, eyes wide. Steve looked at Mike, who looked back helplessly. Suddenly Jeannie's face split into a wide grin and she laughed. "I think that's just wonderful!"

# # # # #

"Pete, Norm. Anything for me yet?" Haseejian ran a tired hand over his face, the phone braced between his ear and shoulder. "Okay, yeah, thanks… No, nothing from anybody, it's like this kid disappeared. I don't understand it… Yeah, we've got the ME on alert but nothin's come through the morgue either… Yeah, thanks… He's doin' a lot better, thanks, but if he comes back, who knows, right? It was pretty bad… Yeah, Pete, thanks a lot. Later."

Haseejian dropped the receiver onto the cradle with a frustrated sigh and reached for his coffee cup. It had been another long night of nothing, making the rounds of his snitches and CI's. Usually so reliable, they had given him zilch. It was like John Lewis Stanton had never existed.

He glanced around the office. Everyone was busy, he knew, and they could use his help, but at the same time, they all wanted to nail Mike's shooter and knew that Haseejian was the man to do it.

He flipped through his Rolodex, found a number and dialed. 'No stone unturned,' he thought, and almost chuckled to himself.

# # # # #

Maggie leaned over the bed and gave Mike a kiss then looked at Steve. "You two gonna be all right here on your own?" she asked with a chuckle.

Mike smiled and glanced at his old partner. "Oh, I think we can find something to talk about," Steve laughed, dropping onto the chair beside the bed.

"What about you?" Maggie said to Dan, who looked towards Mike before answering.

"I think I've been ordered back to work," he said with a facial shrug.

On Maggie and Jeannie's questioning looks, Mike offered, "I told him he's been hanging around here too much, slacking off. He's got work to do." Mike's voice was laced with affection and his tone was light.

Dan grinned and snapped a salute. "Yes, sir," he laughed as the others chuckled.

"Well, Jeannie and I are going to get ourselves a big breakfast and get acquainted. I expect to see you sitting in a chair when I get back, right, mister?" She stared at Mike, then smiled sweetly and gave him one more kiss before she and Jeannie headed across the room.

All three men stared at the closing door, then Steve turned to Mike slowly. "She is a force of nature," he said with awe.

"Isn't she?" Mike agreed with a happy grin then he turned to his partner. "Daniel, it really is the best thing you can do for me, going back to work. Right?"

Dan smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I know."

"And you," Mike continued, turning to Steve, "this is the last day I want to see you here too, right? I'm gonna be okay and I don't need you two here wringing your hands anymore, all right?" He had been speaking quietly, trying not to take deep breaths.

The two younger men smiled and glanced at each other. "You're absolutely right," Steve agreed, "But I promised Maggie I'd watch over you today so you're stuck with me."

"And I'm out of here," laughed Dan as he walked to the door. "I'll see you both later."

When he had gone, Steve relaxed in the chair and stared at his old partner, who had leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "You okay?"

Mike smiled, keeping his eyes closed. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Steve reached out and grabbed Mike's forearm, squeezing it affectionately. Mike opened his eyes and turned his head. "How the hell did you get so lucky?" Steve asked with a smile in his voice.

Mike grinned. "Clean living," he said with a chuckle then winced, putting his right hand on his chest. He could feel Steve's grip on his forearm tighten.

"Clean living, right," Steve snickered, after Mike had relaxed and he knew all was well, "I know all about St. Louis, you dog."

# # # # #

Smiling and laughing, almost instantly feeling comfortable in each other's company, Jeannie and Maggie stepped out of the hospital into the chilly early December air and crossed the parking lot. Jeannie knew of a pretty good café with fresh baked goods just down the street and Maggie had quickly approved.

They waited on the corner for the light to change then started across the street, neither noticing the dark blue sedan parked around the corner. A man got out of the passenger side and started down the street in their direction; the engine was turned on and the car pulled smoothly away from the curb, turning the corner towards them.


	14. Chapter 14

Jeannie tore a piece off of her croissant, trying daintily but unsuccessfully to stuff it into her mouth. She chuckled, and Maggie reached across the table to brush away the crumbs with a natural yet slightly maternal touch. "It is impossible to eat those things and look elegant," Maggie said lightly, "but my god, they are good."

Nodding in agreement, Jeannie washed the pastry down with a sip of her cafe au lait. "They sure are," she grinned.

The two women were having a wonderful time and neither was afraid to show it. From the moment Jeannie set eyes on the stunning older brunette, getting a better look at her than when she was laying beside Mike, she knew that this was her father's type of woman: striking, confident, intelligent and fun. She reminded Jeannie a bit of Irene Martin, the Robbery inspector who was briefly Mike's fiancée. But something deep inside, even though she had only known Maggie for a couple of hours, told her that this woman was a more compatible match.

In short, she was thrilled for her father.

"So Mike tells me you're going for your Ph.D. in urban architecture?" When Jeannie nodded, Maggie continued, straight-faced, "So, you wanted to get into hair styling but it was all filled up?"

Jeannie stifled her initial outburst of laughter, glancing self-consciously around the small café. "I've been interested in architecture since I was a kid, and I honestly don't know why. I mean, my dad was a cop and my mom was a housewife; I know they went to New York City once when I was still in the womb – maybe they went to the New York Public Library and I was inspired," she chuckled.

Maggie was sitting back, smiling warmly, obviously impressed by this beautiful, vibrant, bright and quick-witted young woman who more than likely was going to become her daughter-in-law.

Jeannie glanced down at her plate, hesitated then looked at Maggie from under her brow, as if reluctant. "Maggie," she paused then, "I know what Dan told me, but, well, what really happened between you and Mike, I mean, when you were here the first time? I know Dan knows, but you know men, a little light on the details." She shrugged and rolled her eyes.

Maggie, who had glanced toward the café window, turned back and smiled. "You mean when my husband was killed?"

Jeannie looked at her sadly. "I'm sorry…"

"Don't be," Maggie said kindly, "that's in the past. It was wonderful while it lasted, but it's a part of my past now. And Mike is my future."

Jeannie smiled warmly at her, realizing with each passing minute that this woman was Mike's perfect match

"As for your father," Maggie started, " well, he was –"

Jeannie, who had glanced at the café window, put her hand up quickly and Maggie stopped. Jeannie turned to her then back to the window. "I'm sorry, Maggie, but I just saw the same guy walk by the window again and look in."

"About five-ten, dark hair, wearing a checked shirt and camel sportscoat?"

Jeannie looked at her with a furrowed brow. "You saw him?"

"Yeah, and that's the _third_ time he's been by the window. Hey, with my background, you learn to notice everything. But you; I'm impressed – you are definitely Mike's daughter."

Despite the sudden seriousness of the situation, Jeannie smiled; she always loved it when people compared her to her father. But her thoughts quickly returned to the present. "What do you think that's all about?"

Maggie sighed guiltily. "It's gotta be me. You know I was in witness protection, right, and I left all that when I flew here. I was so worried about Mike that I didn't even think about it – and to tell you the truth, I didn't care. I wasn't going to let it stop me from being with him." Realizing she was almost chattering, she paused. "What I'm trying to say is, it might be someone tied to the Jersey mob that wants to follow through on their promise to make me pay for ratting on them." She seemed to lose her composure for a few seconds, as the immensity of what she had disclosed registered with them both.

"So what do you think we should do?" Jeannie asked, hoping to get Maggie back on track. This was not a frivolous woman, she had learned in the past couple of hours.

" _We?_ " Maggie asked with a smile, then she looked down and her smile turned wistful. "Well, I guess it is _we_ now, isn't it? I mean after all, when Mike and I get married…" She let the rest of the sentence hang and both women smiled shyly.

"So," Maggie said suddenly, "I think we should get back to the hospital and tell Dan; he'll know what to do. They won't try anything while you're with me," she said with a heartening conviction that seemed reassuring.

"But Dan won't be there," Jeannie reminded her. "Remember? Mike sent him back to work."

"Oh, you're right. Well, I don't want your father to know anything about this, so we better talk to Steve. I'm pretty sure all his cop instincts are still there and he'll know what we should do."

# # # # #

They could hear Steve's laugh through the door as they pushed it open. He was still sitting in the chair, chuckling, it seemed, to himself. Mike, in bathrobe and slippers, was sitting in the upholstered chair beside him, a blanket once more over his shoulders. He was smiling in that innocent 'what did I say?' way that he had.

"Well," said Maggie with a wide smile as they entered, taking it all in, "you two seem to be having a great time." Mike grinned up at her as she got closer, leaning over and kissing him. "You look great. How are you feeling?"

"Good," he said with a warm smile, taking her hand. "Did you guys have a good breakfast?" he asked carefully, trying not to wince. Maggie frowned.

"Yes, it was wonderful," Maggie said perfunctorily, eyeing him worriedly. "Are you sure you're okay?"

He nodded. "It hurt getting into the chair; they just did it a few minutes ago. The pain'll go away," he finished encouragingly.

With a troubled smile, she nodded and kissed the top of his head lovingly, her lips lingering for several seconds as she closed her eyes. Steve glanced up at Jeannie and they smiled warmly at each other.

When Maggie raised her head, Jeannie said, "So, what were you laughing about?" They all looked at Steve.

"Okay, so, they've given Mike this thing," he picked up what looked like a large graded plastic cylinder with a handle, and a thick tube with a mouthpiece attached to the bottom. "He has to blow into it and it will help improve his lung function. It's all very scientific."

"Okay," said Maggie slowly, "what's so funny about that?"

"Well, this is called a spirometer."

"Okay…?" Maggie and Jeannie were still waiting.

With a smirk, Steve turned to Mike. "And what did you call it?"

"I told you I couldn't remember the name," Mike said quietly, obviously in self-defense.

"Tell them," Steve said calmly but firmly.

"I called it an 'Agnew-meter'."

Jeannie erupted with laughter and Maggie bit her lips to keep from giggling. Steve chortled silently, but snorts kept escaping. Mike looked hurt and embarrassed, but they all knew it was an act. Eventually, he smiled as well. "I know what it's called," he said petulantly, "I was just making a joke."

"Yeah, right," said Steve dismissively, but with an affectionate chuckle.

"That's actually very funny, Mike," Jeannie said, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

Mike paused slightly, then grinned. If she was calling him Mike again, he must be getting better. "Thank you, sweetheart," he said with a curt nod to his daughter and a dismissive sneer in Steve's direction.

"I'm impressed," Maggie added with an approving nod, "funny and politically savvy. I seemed to have scored the whole package here." She wrapped her arms lightly and gently around Mike's shoulders. When he couldn't see her face, she looked quickly and pointedly from Jeannie to Steve.

Jeannie turned to the younger man, groping for some excuse to get him out of the room. Sensing her dilemma, Maggie pulled a chair up beside Mike and took his hand. "We had a marvelous breakfast," she said, "but I forgot to get orange juice. Would you like some too?" When Mike nodded, she turned to face the other pair.

"Steve, Jeannie, could you do us a favor and go down to the cafeteria and get us some orange juice?"

"Ah, sure," said Steve as Jeannie shot her an almost inconspicuous 'thank you' nod and they left the room.

Maggie turned back to Mike. "You have quite the daughter there, mister. You've done a terrific job raising her."

# # # # #

Once into the corridor, Jeannie stopped Steve with a hand on his arm. "We have to talk," she said quickly, keeping her voice low.

"What's going on?" He stopped, suddenly concerned.

"Come on, we'd better go to the cafeteria like Maggie asked or Mike'll get suspicious." She pulled his arm and he fell into step beside her. "Something happened when we were at breakfast and we need your advice."

# # # # #

"Whoa, what are you doing here?" Lessing said with a happy smile as Dan walked into the Homicide office. "That's gotta mean only one thing – Mike's doing a lot better, right?"

Dan laughed and nodded. "He sure is. As a matter of fact, he's the one that ordered me back here, so you know he's on the mend."

Fielding more greetings, Dan made his way to his desk, checking the messages that had piled up in his absence. He glanced towards Mike's office, smiling, and actually felt himself relaxing for the first time in days. He looked up again, scanning the room.

"Lee, where's Norm?"

Lessing turned from his desk. "He was in this morning but he took off about a half hour ago, went down to Narcotics, I think. Why?"

"Just wondering. He still working on Mike's case?"

"Yep, and he's getting pretty frustrated. Can't get a lead on that Stanton kid and I think he's been down every avenue – nothing."

"Thanks…" Dan answered absent-mindedly as he studied one of the messages left on his desk. He quickly picked up the phone and dialed.

# # # # #

A glass of orange juice in each hand, Steve pushed the door open with his shoulder, Jeannie close behind him with two glasses as well. "We decided to join you," she smiled, holding the glasses up. "It just smelled so good and fresh." She crossed to her father and handed him a glass.

Steve handed his extra juice to Maggie, and as they made eye contact and he smiled knowingly, she gave him a barely perceptible nod. "Thanks, Steve," she smiled as she took the glass, glancing briefly towards Jeannie.

They made small talk as they sipped their juice. Jeannie realized she had not told Maggie about Mike's unawareness of the Moscone/Milk assassinations, and she hoped the older woman wouldn't bring it up in the course of conversation. She knew she had to get Maggie aside at some point.

She had also not informed Maggie of the implications of Mike's injuries and the reality that his days as a street cop were over, and she didn't think that Dan or Steve had done so already either. That revelation could wait; she didn't want to disturb the euphoria that surrounded them all at the moment, a situation she knew would be short-lived.

Finishing her orange juice, Maggie turned to Steve. "Sweetie, could you do me a huge favor and drive me to Dan's place so I can change and freshen up? I never expected to stay all night," she chuckled, looking warmly at Mike. "You don't mind if I leave for a bit, do you, Mike?"

"Not at all," he said quietly, then grimaced, closing his eyes.

They all looked at him, suddenly unsettled. "Are you sure you're okay?" Maggie asked anxiously.

He opened his eyes and smiled. "Yeah," he nodded, "I'm just a little sore this morning. Blowing into that…thing," he pointed at the spirometer, "it's really painful."

"Yeah, the doctors said that most people only have one lung that's been injured," Steve said quietly, laying a hand on Mike's forearm and squeezing, concern tingeing his words.

"I'm okay," Mike said with as much conviction as he could muster, "and I have Jeannie here with me." He smiled at his daughter and she smiled back, worry furrowing her brow.

Maggie leaned forward and gave him a kiss. "I won't be long, I promise."

# # # # #

"Robbery, Healey," came the gruff voice over the phone.

"Dan, hi, it's Dan." There was the usual chuckle on both ends of the conversation. "I just got in and got your message. What's up?"

"Well, before we get down to specifics, the fact that you're in the office, that means Mike's getting better, right?"

Ah, detectives, thought Dan Robbins, they never miss a thing. "Mike's doing great. You guys should really get in to see him, he'd love that."

"That's great news. Yeah, I'll try to get there as soon as I can."

"So, what's up?"

"Look, you know Norm has been heading up the investigation into Mike's shooting pretty much all by himself, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well…" Dan heard Healey take a deep breath, "I'm getting a really bad feeling about all this, like Norm is reaching the end of his rope. Dan, I'm really worried about him. Look, why don't you and I get together for a…juice or something," there was a dry chuckle, "I need to bounce a few things off you, okay?"


	15. Chapter 15

Healey took a sip of this coffee. "Hunh, for a granola bar this place has pretty good coffee."

Dan smiled as he swallowed a mouthful of fruit smoothie. "See? Told ya."

Clearing his throat, Healey looked down at the table then back up. "Listen, Dan, I wanted you to hear this from me. The brass have asked me to step into Mike's position on an interim basis, until he's, ah, well, until a decision is made on his future." He paused; they both knew what he meant. "It's gonna be a couple of months at least until a final decision is made, and of course it's gonna be Mike's call, but until then they need someone to run the department."

Healey sounded so apologetic that Dan felt sorry for the man. "Dan, it's okay, I understand. You taking over makes total sense – you're a lieutenant now, you have tons of experience, most of it in homicide – you're the perfect choice."

"Thanks," he said quietly.

"Besides," Dan continued, "the guys in the squad know you and like you, so it's not like they're parachuting someone in from another department. Mike would approve."

"Yeah, that's what I thought too, so that's why I accepted it," Healey confirmed with a slight nod. "But, ah, but that's not the main reason I wanted to talk to you. It's Norm."

"What do you need?"

"Well, I know I shouldn't be doing this, and it could come back to bite me on ass later on, but now that you're back, I want you to team up with Norm on the Mike shooting investigation."

"Me?"

"Yeah, now I know it's not a Homicide matter, and thank god for that, but nobody's said anything about Norm as the lead on this so I've been letting him work on his own and do what he wants to get this kid. Trouble is, he's hit a dead end and it's really starting to take a toll on him, I think. The last time I saw him he wasn't the old Norm Haseejian we've all come to know and love – he's turned into this angry, obsessive zealot that I don't even recognize anymore."

"What do you want me to do?" Dan asked cautiously.

"I want you to be his second, but on the sly, kinda. I'm gonna tell Norm that you're back on board and you really want a hand in nailing Mike's shooter, but you know that Norm is the lead on this and you'll do whatever he asks. What I want to you do is keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn't do anything stupid, anything that'll risk his career, or possibly his life. You know what I'm saying?"

Dan nodded slowly. "Yeah, I do. But, ah, what if he doesn't want me anywhere near him?"

"Let me handle that. I'm gonna tell him it's Mike's wish that you get involved. That'll persuade him, I'm sure. We just have to make sure that if Norm goes to visit Mike, none of this gets talked about, which is another reason I want you watching him. So, you up for this?"

Dan leaned back in the chair. "You bet. I really want to get this Stanton kid too; you have no idea. I have just as much stake in this as Norm, maybe more, right?" He smiled. "Thanks, Dan, I appreciate this, I really do."

# # # # #

Steve walked into his office, took off his jacket and draped it over the back of his chair. The essays were still on his desk, exactly as he had left them. He smiled and shook his head; was that actually only five days ago? Dropping into the chair, he ran his hands over his beard then up through his hair, an old habit.

He sat there for a few minutes, collecting his thoughts, plotting his next moves. He opened the top right drawer and took out a medium-sized leather journal. He flipped it open and scanned a few pages before settling on the one he wanted. With his finger on the page, he picked up the receiver of his black desktop phone and dialed.

Fifteen minutes and two calls later, he hung up, picked up his pen and bent over the desk, closing the open essay and starting to read it again from the top.

He was almost finished when a discreet throat clearing once again caught his attention, and he looked up with a smile. "I was wondering how long it was gonna take you to find out I was back."

Professor Carleton walked into the room, a grin splitting his face. "Am I to assume from your presence here that Mike is on the mend?"

Steve's smile got even wider as he sat back and tossed the pen on the desk. "You can."

"That is wonderful news, my boy." Carleton sat in the guest chair and crossed his legs, a sign he was going to stay for awhile. "I know you were worried."

"Yeah, it was pretty scary there for a bit. He was hit three times in the chest." Carleton winced. "He didn't come out of it completely unscathed, but he's alive and he's going to be okay so that's everything we could've hoped for, right?"

"Precisely. So, am I to take it from your return that you are now back amongst us on a more permanent level?"

Steve laughed; Carleton had a way of putting things that always made him smile. "Yes, I would think so. As a matter of fact, it was Mike that ordered me back to work, so you know he's got to be getting better." He paused. "Listen, ah, what's the feeling around here as to what went on with Moscone and Milk last week?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I haven't had a chance to follow much of it, but what's the 'word on the street', so to speak. Are they labeling this a gay murder, a political murder or what?"

"Ah, that, well, Milk's homosexuality has definitely been a talking point, that's for sure, and Dan White has always come across as someone who is, how shall I put this, homophobic, but from what I am hearing, this was a political act, pure and simple. It seems after White resigned in a huff a few weeks ago, he started having second thoughts and went to Moscone to try to get his seat back. But Milk had headed up that drive to rezone the districts in San Francisco and eliminate White's district."

"And White figured he could get his job back at the point of a gun?" Steve asked rhetorically with a resigned sigh. "I do know the police department _and_ the fire department are a little ashamed that he was a member, even though he quit both of them."

"Well, that's neither here nor there for us, Steven." Carleton rose to his feet. "I'll leave you to it, my boy," he gestured towards the stack of essays, "and welcome back."

# # # # #

It was early that evening when Steve pushed open the heavy wooden door expecting to see Mike and Maggie sitting in the armchairs. Instead, he found a very tried-looking Maggie sitting beside the bed, holding Mike's left hand. He was in the bed, eyes half-closed, pale, sweaty and semi-conscious.

Maggie turned towards the door, smiling in relief when her eyes fell on him. "Steve, I'm glad you're here.

"Maggie, what's going on? What's wrong?" Steve asked quickly, his heart suddenly constricting.

She looked back at Mike. "They tried to get him off the morphine and onto a drug called oxycodone, but he didn't react to it very well. He was dizzy and nauseous and he threw up a couple of times." She choked up and stopped for a second. "He was in so much pain. They finally decided to try Demerol instead and he's doing a lot better but he's still fighting the effects of the oxycodone." She looked at Steve again and sighed sadly. "It's been a really rough day."

Steve had come up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. She could feel his fingers digging in and she knew he was as worried as she was. He patted one shoulder and bent over so his mouth was close to her ear. "He'll be okay," he whispered, then moved beside her to get closer to the bed. "Where's Jeannie? Shouldn't she be here?"

Maggie smiled. "She is – has been all day. She's down in the cafeteria right now getting some ice chips." As Steve studied his friend's ashen face, she added, "He's doing a lot better, really – you should have seen him a couple of hours ago."

"You should've called me," Steve said over his shoulder.

"Mike wouldn't let us," she said softly, "he didn't want to 'disturb you'." When he turned to look at her, she shrugged. "You know what he's like…"

"Yeah, I do," Steve said quietly, putting his hand on Mike's sweaty forehead. "Hey, Michael, I'm here. I heard you've had a bad day," he said lightly with a smile as he stroked his friend's damp hair.

Mike tried to open his eyes wider and he moaned; Steve could see his lips turn up in a weak approximation of a smile. "Here," Maggie said, handing Steve a damp towel and he took it gratefully. He gently patted the sweat from Mike's face and neck.

"That feels good," Mike whispered and Steve and Maggie exchanged surprised looks.

Still holding his hand, she stood and moved closer to the bed, smiling. Mike's eyes slid in her direction. "Can one of you get the room to stop spinning?"

Maggie gasped in relief and Steve chuckled. "See, I told ya he's gonna be okay. Maggie tells me you've had it pretty rough the past few hours."

Mike stared at him as if trying to remember then he nodded slowly and carefully. "I'd make a terrible drug addict," he said with a tiny smile, "they make me throw up."

"That's not a bad thing," Maggie said with a laugh, then said quickly, clarifying, "the 'not able to be a drug addict' thing, not the 'throwing up' thing."

Both men laughed, then Mike moaned. "Close your eyes," Steve instructed, "that'll help the spinning."

They heard the door behind them open. "How is he?" Jeannie asked as she hurried into the room, a cup of ice chips in one hand and a plastic spoon in the other. "Oh, Steve, hi, I'm glad you're here," she said quickly when she saw him.

"Hi, and he's doing better," Steve answered with a grin and took a step back to she could see her father.

Mike kept his eyes closed but smiled. "I'm fine, sweetheart."

Crossing to the bed, she heaved a sigh of relief, turning to Maggie questioningly. "The Demerol seems to have kicked in and he's not reacting to it," Maggie explained, holding up her right hand with her fingers crossed. "He's still a little dizzy."

Jeannie leaned over the bed and kissed her father on the cheek. His smile widened. "I have some ice chips, do you want some?"

"Sounds wonderful," he murmured.

"Okay, give me a second," she said as she changed hands with the cup and spoon.

While Jeannie fed her father the ice chips, Maggie pulled Steve aside. Remembering that Mike had overheard them the last time, she asked him in a very soft whisper, and with a lot of hand gestures, if he had done anything regarding the man in the camel sportscoat she and Jeannie had seen outside the café.

'I've made some calls,' he mouthed, miming putting a phone to his ear. She put her hand on his forearm. 'Thank you,' she mouthed back, squeezed his arm then went back to the bed.

Steve watched the women as they cared for the most important man in their lives, and he smiled appreciatively. But as he watched, a new reality sunk in and the smile disappeared. There were too many things being withheld from Mike right now, he thought. And a nagging feeling in the back of his mind told him this was not going to end well.


	16. Chapter 16

"I think he's out for the night," Steve said quietly. He glanced at his watch. "This might be a good time to leave before the nurses have to kick us out. Maggie, can I give you a lift to Dan's?"

"Oh," Maggie shot a quick look at Jeannie, "I moved into Mike's place. Jeannie thought it might be a good idea, and I thought so too, so we took what little I brought with me over there earlier this afternoon, before all this," she gestured towards the bed, "started."

"Wow, you move fast," Steve said with a sly chuckle, and Maggie whacked him lightly on the arm. Jeannie laughed quietly as she got to her feet and leaned over the bed, giving her father a very light kiss on the cheek.

"Good night, Daddy," she whispered, relieved when he didn't show any sign of responding. She turned away from the bed. "He must be exhausted."

"I know I am," said Maggie softly. "It'll feel good to get a good nights sleep."

"Yes, in the bed you'll be sleeping in for the rest of your life," Steve chuckled suggestively, and Maggie swatted him again.

"Keep it up," she said in her low, dusky voice, "and you'll be sharing a room with him." She pointed at Mike.

Chuckling still, he walked towards the door and Jeannie joined him; they turned away, allowing Maggie her privacy. She leaned over the bed, staring at the sleeping Mike. She put a hand very lightly on his cheek, hoping she wouldn't wake him. "Sleep well, darling, I'll see you in the morning." He didn't move, so she leaned closer and kissed his forehead.

# # # # #

The only light on was the green banker's lamp on a desk in the middle of the room. The Armenian detective was hunched over, leaning on his left arm as he flipped through the pages of a thick file. He started to turn another page, stopped, leaned back with a tired sigh and ran both hands over his face, rubbing his eyes.

"Why don't you go home and get some sleep?" came a quiet voice from the hallway door and Haseejian looked up, surprised he was not alone.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked gruffly, but there was affection behind the harsh words.

Dan Robbins pushed himself away from the doorframe he was leaning against and crossed the squadroom towards the desk. "I figured it was time I got back to work."

Haseejian brightened. "Does that mean that Mike is finally out of the woods?"

Smiling, Dan nodded. "Yep, it sure does. He kicked me out of his room this morning."

Haseejian let his head fall back and he grinned, chuckling. His relief was palpable. "Wow, that is the best news I've heard in days. Have a seat," he said, gesturing at the second chair. As Dan dropped into it, he continued, "I've been meaning to drop by the hospital again but I've just been so caught up in this." He gestured at the stacks of files and reports on the desk.

"Yeah, I heard. Hey, Dan asked me to give you a hand on this, you know, a second pair of eyes. Are you okay with that?"

Haseejian looked at him noncommittally, and Dan couldn't tell what was going through his mind. The older man's eyes dropped to the desktop then back up. "Sure, why not?" he said finally. "I could use a fresh approach."

Dan relaxed but tried not to show it outwardly. He nodded soberly. "Thanks, I appreciate that. I felt so helpless when Mike was shot, like I should have been there to stop it, you know what I mean?"

Haseejian nodded sadly with a knowing smile. "Unfortunately, I think we all know how you feel. Let's hope nailing this little bastard'll help."

Dan nodded as well and they fell into an uneasy silence. Eventually Haseejian glanced at his watch. "You know, you're right. It's late, and I don't think you should start going over anything right now. Why don't we call it a night and start fresh in the morning?"

Smiling in earnest now, Dan got to his feet. "I think that a great idea. Come on, I'll walk you out."

# # # # #

Jeannie put the cup of tea on the table in front of Maggie and sat at the other side of the kitchen table. "Thanks," Maggie said, wrapping her hands around the warm mug. "It's getting chilly out there."

"Well, it is December," Jeannie said with a smile, "but it's nothing compared to the winters back east, I'm sure."

"Oh ho, you can say that again. I'm not going to miss those."

Jeannie chuckled, then looked down at her own mug, her smile disappearing. "Maggie, there's something I've got to tell you about Mike. I don't think Dan has yet and I think you need to know."

Suddenly anxious but trying not to show it, Maggie put her mug down. "What is it?"

Jeannie took a deep breath, as if not knowing where to start. "Even Mike doesn't know this yet, but it's only a matter of time." She paused, but when she realized her hesitation was only making the older woman more concerned, she said quietly, "Maggie, they had to remove part of Mike's right lung after he was shot. The bullet disintegrated and the damage was just too bad and they couldn't save the upper lobe of his right lung."

Maggie had put one hand to her mouth, her eyes knotted in worry. "Is he going to be okay?"

Smiling reassuringly, Jeannie nodded and put a hand on Maggie's forearm. "The doctors say he's going to be perfectly fine, lots of people only have one lung and he just lost part of one lung, so he's going to be okay." She paused. "The problem is, the police department won't allow him to work the streets anymore. It has something to do with the union, and insurance and health concerns. But the bottom line is, he won't be able to go back to the job he had, the job he loves… His days as a front line homicide detective are over."

Maggie looked away and Jeannie could see her eyes brighten with tears. "That job is his life," she said softly, and Jeannie smiled; she had used those exact words. Maggie turned back. "When are you going to tell him?"

Jeannie sighed and sat back slightly, putting both hands around her mug. She shook her head. "I have no idea. We're not even sure who should tell him – the doctors, me, Steve… I just know I want him to be a lot further along health-wise before we have to hit him with something like this."

"And he still doesn't know about the assassinations either, does he?"

Jeannie shook her head again. "Nope." They sat in silence for several long moments. "Well, I'm drained. Today took a lot out of everybody, I think. I'm going to go to bed." She stood, taking her mug to the sink. "I've changed the sheets on the bed and there's fresh linens in Mike's bathroom." She crossed to the table and bent down to give Maggie a peck on the cheek. "Sleep well. I'll see you in the morning."

Maggie smiled affectionately as Jeannie headed out of the kitchen. "Thank you, Jeannie, you sleep well too." She remained at the table, her smile slowly disappearing as thought about Mike, and herself, and their future together.

# # # # #

"Well, good morning. You're looking a lot better," Dr. Webster smiled as he let the heavy wooden door close behind him. "The Demerol seems to be doing it's job."

Mike smiled, nodding. "I feel a lot better, doc, thanks."

"Good to see." As he took the stethoscope out of his coat pocket, Webster glanced around the room. "I don't think I've been in here with just you before – you always seem to have visitors," he chuckled.

"Yeah," Mike said quietly, happily, "I have a lot of support."

"Lucky man, a lot of our patients seem to be here on their own. Okay," he continued as he put the tips of the stethoscope in his ears, "let's have a listen to your lungs." He helped Mike sit up and opened his pajama top. "Okay, deep breaths."

Webster started by placing the diaphragm high on the left side of Mike's chest, working his way down and then on the right side. "Okay, lean forward a little, please," and he slid his arm under the pajama top, taking the readings through Mike's back.

"There, you can lean back now," he said, slipping the tips out of his ears and helping Mike to lay back against the pillows. As he pushed Mike's left sleeve up, Webster said, "Everything sounds fine. You're doing very well." He picked up the blood pressure cuff from the bedside table.

Watching as the doctor slipped the cuff around his upper arm and velcroed it closed, Mike said quietly, "Doc, can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Webster answered as he began to inflate the cuff.

"Why did you only listen for sounds from two places on my right side?"

Webster froze slightly, not meeting Mike's eyes, then continued to inflate the cuff. "What do you mean?"

"I've had a lot of doctors listen to my lungs over the years, from way back in the war and every year for my physical. I know we all have three lobes in each lung and you listen to all three," Mike was speaking slowly, his voice low, staring at the doctor who wouldn't meet his eyes. "So how come you only listened at two places on my right side, center and low?"

Webster, knowing he was caught out and silently cursing himself, cleared his throat slightly, briefly bit his lip and smiled wanly. He finished inflating the cuff, slipped the stethoscope diagram underneath it and began to release the pressure, silently watching the readings. Mike's stare never left his face.

Webster took his stethoscope off and stuffed it back in his pocket, undid the BP cuff and put it back on the table. Then he finally met Mike's eyes.

"The bullet that went into the right side of your chest was frangible. When it hit the rib, both the rib and the bullet fragmented and shredded the upper lobe of your right lung. There was just too much damage. Dr. Somerset tried for two days to save your lung, and in the end the only thing he could do was remove the upper lobe. You're healing extremely well, the rest of the lung is perfectly healthy and you'll have no lasting effects."

"Then why didn't anyone tell me before now?" Mike asked, his expression remaining neutral.

"Maybe they wanted you to be feeling a little better before you were told. They really care about you and I'm sure they just felt it was something that should be explained when you were lucid enough to fully understand."

Mike finally looked away. "Thanks, doc," he said quietly.

"You're welcome," Webster said softly, patting his patient's arm sympathetically. He knew this is not the way Jeannie and Steve wanted Mike to find out, but he had been given no choice. He couldn't lie when asked such a direct question; now he only hoped they understood. "You just take it easy, I'm sure everyone'll be in to see you shortly," he said awkwardly and turned abruptly to leave the room.

When the door closed, Mike sank back even further into the pillows. He closed his eyes. He knew full well what the implications of this new revelation were, and tears started to trickle down his cheeks. He took breaths as deep as he could without pain as he fought to get a grip on his emotions, hoping that no one would walk through that door before he was once more in control.


	17. Chapter 17

Her arms laden, Maggie pushed the heavy wooden door open with her shoulder, then smiled in relief and delight; Mike was sitting in the armchair, staring at the door and grinning. "Hi, gorgeous," he said with a loving chuckle, his eyes warm and bright.

"My god, look at you," Maggie sighed happily, as an equally burdened Jeannie came through the door behind her, her own face alight. "You look wonderful."

"I guess they found the right drug," Mike said with a laugh as Maggie put her packages on the bed. "And see what else I can do?" he announced as he raised and opened his arms as high as he could. He gestured with his fingers for her to come closer; she leaned over, slipping her arms around him as she felt him gather her in a careful embrace. They both closed their eyes, and Jeannie found herself turning away and biting her lip.

Maggie pulled back and Mike lowered his arms with a grimace. "You okay?" she asked and he nodded quickly.

"I'm terrific," he said with a smile, and she gave him a quick kiss on the lips.

Jeannie had put her bags on the bed as well, then crossed to her father and bent down to give him a buss on the cheek. "Good morning, Daddy. You look so much better than yesterday."

"I'm feeling a lot better, that's for sure."

"We bought you some things," Maggie said, standing by the bed. "After yesterday's little episode, Jeannie and I realized you need more than one pair of pajamas, so we got you a couple more pair," Jeannie pulled them out of one of the bags, " _and_ I had a look at that dressing gown of yours at home – and really, Mike, how old is that thing? You need a new one, so I got you one of those this morning too." She pulled a stylish burgundy velour robe with gold piping out of another bag and held it up.

Mike's eyes grew wide and his head went back slightly. "That's beautiful," he said in awe and Maggie grinned.

"So you like it?"

"Of course I like it. Why wouldn't I?" He reached out to feel the material.

"I already talked to the nurses, and they said I could help you get into them," Maggie said with a humorously suggestive leer and Jeannie rolled her eyes theatrically and laughed.

"And that's my cue to get out of here," she said. "Let me know when you two are finished." She looked back at the door, laughing at their surprised stares, and she was still chuckling when she started down the corridor toward the elevators.

"Oh, Miss Stone! Jeannie!" A voice from behind caught her attention and she turned.

Dr. Webster was striding towards her, his brow furrowed, and she felt panic rising.

As he got closer, her took her elbow and whispered quickly, "Could I talk to you for a few minutes?"

"Is Mike okay?" she asked, trying to keep the worry from her voice.

"What?" He looked at her confused, then shook his head and smiled. "Oh, ah, no, he's fine, really, he's doing a lot better. The Demerol is working like it should and he's back on track." She relaxed and he smiled apologetically. "No, ah, what I want to talk to you about is, well, I made a mistake this morning when I was examining him, and I wanted you and Steve to know about it."

# # # # #

Steve glanced at his watch again. The morning was just dragging by, he thought. He looked up from the essay he was reading and cocked his head. The building was deserted; true, it was a Saturday morning just before exams, but the silence was almost oppressive.

Jeannie had called earlier, letting him know that she and Maggie were heading to the hospital. He had decided to spend the morning at the university catching up, and he'd head over to the hospital towards the middle of the afternoon. But he had made Jeannie promise him that she'd call if something was amiss.

He was just about to pour another cup of coffee from his thermos when the phone rang. "Keller, Criminology," he answered.

"Steve, it's Jeannie," she said quickly, realizing he would panic when he heard her voice, "Mike's okay, but there's something I have to talk to you about, right away." She heard the release of a held breath on the other end of the phone and she could picture Steve closing his eyes in relief.

"He's really okay?"

"Yes, he's sitting up in the armchair and smiling, and he could even raise his arms a bit to give Maggie a hug. But Steve, I just had a talk with Dr. Webster…and, well, Mike knows."

"He knows…?"

"He knows about his lung."

Steve exhaled loudly. "How did he find out?"

Jeannie told him what Webster had said, how Mike had caught him listening to breath sounds in only two places on his right side. "He doesn't miss a beat, does he?" Steve said with a heavy sigh when she finished.

"The thing is, he's acting like nothing's changed, at least as far as I can tell right now. I was only in there for a couple of minutes."

"Ah, why only a couple of minutes?"

"Oh… um, Maggie and I bought him some pajamas and a new dressing gown this morning, and she's helping him get into them and…." She trailed off, letting him finish the end of that sentence in his mind.

"Okay, I get the picture," Steve stepped in with a laugh.

"What do you think we should do?" she asked quietly.

"Look, ah, I'll talk to him about it. I have some experience with life-changing injuries, right?" he asked somewhat rhetorically with a sardonic chuckle. "At the very least, I have an idea of where his head is right now and what he is going to go through. But there's a big difference between us, though – I'd already made the decision to leave the force _before_ I was shot; he's got to make that decision, or have it made for him, _after_ he was shot."

He heard her sigh on the other end of the phone. "Yeah, I just feel so sorry for him, none of this has been his fault. It's just not fair."

"It never is, Jeannie, it never is." Steve paused. "Do me a favor, will you? Find out from the nurses if he can eat anything he wants? I'll bring dinner for both of us tonight and talk to him then."

"Oh, I already talked to them – he's okay to eat anything, so go ahead. But I think it should be something soft and easy to digest; his system is still a little out of whack after yesterday."

"Yeah, good idea. I'm thinking pasta. Okay, so tell him I'll be there for dinner, and you and Maggie have a good visit with him. And don't let on that you know he knows, okay? Leave that to me. Oh, and I'll give Dan a shout and keep him in the loop too."

"Perfect. Thanks, Steve, you're the best. Oh, Maggie's signaling me from the door – I better get back in there and see how Mike looks in his new pj's!" She finished the call with a laugh, and he hung the phone up with a smile.

# # # # #

It was pitch dark by the time Steve got to the hospital, even though it was only early evening. It had taken him a little longer than anticipated to get across the bridge and then pick up dinner. He pushed the hospital room door open with his elbow, smiling to himself to see Mike seemingly asleep in the bed, wearing dark blue pajamas under a warm and handsome burgundy robe.

As he put the two heavy paper bags down on the bedside table, Mike opened his eyes. "How are you feeling?" Steve asked with a grin as Mike shook his head slightly to wake himself up.

"Uh, I must have fallen asleep. Um, I'm fine, I feel great. Ooo, that smells good," he said, smiling and carefully sitting up a little straighter. "I'm starving."

Chuckling, Steve started to take the cardboard covered aluminum trays out of one of the bags and set them on the overbed. "Ravioli from Emilio's. He even threw in some of his famous garlic bread _and_ tiramisu for dessert. Oh, and he said to 'get well soon'."

"Ah, that's sweet of him. His will be the first place I take Maggie to when I get out of here," Mike said with a smile and a chuckle.

Continuing to grin, Steve reached into the second bag. "Look what else he sent – real plates and cutlery! He said if this is your first decent non-hospital meal, it's got to be 'consumed in style' is exactly how he put it."

Mike was chuckling carefully as he watched Steve set out two place settings on the overbed. Steve was eyeing him surreptitiously, and he could see the lines of tension in his former partner's eyes that someone else might not have noticed. He decided to take things slow and easy. "I'm liking the new wardrobe. Very stylish."

Mike opened his arms, showing off the robe. "Beautiful, isn't it? I gotta tell you, the women in my life have got great taste," he chuckled with affection and Steve nodded with an approving grin. Mike looked back at the plate before him. "Thank you for this," he said, suddenly serious, and Steve looked at him in alarm.

"You okay?"

Mike nodded, blinking quickly. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, really," he smiled somewhat unconvincingly. "It's, ah, it's just been a hell of week, right?"

"Yeah, it sure has," Steve said haltingly as he transferred the ravioli to their plates. When he had finished setting everything up, pouring a ginger ale for Mike and a Coke for himself, he sat in the armchair and balanced his plate on his knees. He raised his plastic glass. "Bon appetit!" He took a sip then put the glass on the floor at his feet.

Mike chuckled as he speared his first ravioli and popped it into his mouth. He closed his eyes and sighed, moaning in ecstasy, and Steve laughed. "Good, hunh?"

"Good? Good, you ask? This is heaven."

Steve smiled warmly. He had missed this, the easy familiarity he had shared with Mike over the six years they were partnered. He knew Mike had too, even though it had never been expressed. They ate in silence for a while, then Steve said quietly, not looking up, "You know, don't you?"

Mike's hand, which was halfway to his mouth with another ravioli he had speared, stopped and a sudden, sad, distant look overtook his features for a split second. "What do you mean?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

Steve continued to stare at him, not giving quarter. It had to be now or never, he knew. "Dr. Webster. I know he told you this morning. You didn't give him any choice."

Mike stared at his plate, but he had stopped eating. He took a deep breath, and Steve could see a slow, ironic, wistful smile building. Mike put down his fork with studied deliberateness and his breaths became deeper and longer. When he finally looked up, his eyes were moist and his expression was both apprehensive and resigned.

# # # # #

Dan reached for the glass of wheatgrass juice as he pored over one of Haseejian's files at his desk. It had been a long day, but it felt good to be catching up on what the Armenian detective had pulled together involving Mike's shooting.

He glanced over his shoulder; Haseejian was huddled over his own desk, his phone cradled between his ear and shoulder, making notes on a yellow legal pad. Dan couldn't resist an appreciative smile; the sergeant's bulldog dedication was incredible.

Dan heard the phone cradled and Haseejian called to him, "Nothing there. Kurt's still working his sources but so far nothing."

The young inspector nodded. He was about to reply when Haseejian's phone rang again and the sergeant snagged it before the first ring died. "Homicide, Haseejian."

"Norm, it's Gary Newman from Narcotics," came a quick voice at the other end of the line, "look, we got somebody down here we think you should talk to. Patrol nailed a guy earlier tonight, high on PCP or something, and before he zoned out, he ranted something about 'that little shit that shot the cop'."


	18. Chapter 18

Haseejian slammed the receiver down on the cradle. "Yes!" he hissed loudly to himself, then looked up. "Come on, kid, we have to get down to Narcotics. They might have something for us."

Dan, realizing he was being called 'kid' but choosing wisely not to comment on it at the moment, snagged his jacket from the back of the chair as he got to his feet and quickly scrambled to catch up with the already departing sergeant. He fell into step beside him near the elevators and shrugged into his coat. "What's up?"

Haseejian filled him in as they rode down the two flights and headed down the corridor to the Narcotics department. They were just about to go in when the door snapped open and a hassled looking middle-aged man with a pronounced paunch blocked their path.

"Oh, Norm, jeez, glad I caught ya. That guy I just called you about? They just took him to the hospital, seems it's a heroin overdose and they're not sure he's gonna make it."

"Shit!" growled Haseejian, pounding a fist into his other palm in frustration. "Is he conscious at all?"

Sergeant Newman shook his head.

"What, precisely, did he say?"

"It wasn't to me, it was Patrolman Metcalfe. He's gone with the guy to the hospital."

"Which one?"

"Franklin."

Dan glanced at Haseejian; that was the same hospital Mike was in and he knew that fact was not lost on the homicide sergeant.

"Okay, thanks, Gary. I guess that's where we're headed." Haseejian slapped the Narcotics officer on the arm as he and Dan turned and headed back down the corridor.

"Oh, hey," yelled Newman to their departing backs, "how's Mike doing?"

Dan turned his head but kept walking. "He's doing great, Gary, thanks for asking."

# # # # #

"So, you want to talk about it?" Steve asked quietly after he had set the remains of their dinner aside, moving the overbed table away.

Mike, who had been looking straight ahead for what seemed like minutes, waited several seconds before answering softly, "Doesn't seem to be much to talk about, does there?"

"What do you mean?"

Mike finally turned to look at him. He had gotten a grip on the emotions that had surfaced again when Steve brought the subject up, and now his face just registered an intense sorrow. "It's over, Steve. What's done is done, and nothing I can do now, or hope for now, can change that. The regulations are the regulations, and they're not going to revise them just for me."

Steve inhaled deeply. He knew Mike was right; he just didn't think he'd have come to that conclusion so quickly and so passively. "So you're just gonna give up without a fight?"

The angry flash in the blue eyes was exactly what Steve wanted to see. Their stares lengthened, then Mike blinked, snorted dryly and dropped his eyes. "You still know how to push my buttons," he sighed with a chuckle, bringing a hand to his face and rubbing his eyes.

Smiling, Steve adjusted his chair, pulling it closer to the bed, and dropped a hand on Mike's forearm. The older man looked away. "You forget, I've been here too, remember? I think I know what you're going through. Mike, this is going to be one of the hardest thing you'll ever have to do in your life, but you're not gonna be doing it alone. You know that, right? You've got me, Jeannie, Dan…and now Maggie."

At the mention of the last name, Mike smiled and started to nod slowly. Then the smile disappeared. "Steve, I can't start over again. I'm not a kid anymore. The only thing I've ever done, the only thing I ever wanted to do, was become a cop. I did that – and then I became a detective." The smile briefly reappeared. "And not just _a_ detective, a _homicide_ detective. And I was good at it," he chuckled, almost self-deprecatingly, "I _am_ good at it."

He felt Steve's hand squeeze his forearm and a comforting warmth flooded over him.

"I can't sit behind a desk, Steve, I just can't. It may be a job someone else can do, but it's not for me. If I can't be out on the street…" He shook his head almost imperceptibly.

"So…what are you gonna do?" Steve asked cautiously, amazed at how much thought the older man had put into this already. But Mike had always been a quick study, one of the many traits that Steve had always admired in the man.

Another head shake, a shrug and a heavy sigh. "I know I have some time," he said slowly, "I don't have to make any decisions right now. I'll talk to the brass, see what they offer, I guess. Keep my options open, as the kids say," he chuckled, and a bit of a twinkle came back into his eyes.

Steve looked at him with warm awe, once more impressed. "That's, ah, that's a great idea," he said slowly, trying not to let his own unraveling emotions colour his tone.

Mike looked at his young friend kindly then flashed a quick grin. "Don't be fooled, I'm not really taking this as well as I seem to be," he said with melancholic irony, "I've been lying here most of the day going through the five stages of grief."

Steve smiled back. "What stage are you on?"

"Acceptance, I think – grudging acceptance. But I don't think that's going to last, I can feel myself sliding back into anger." The grin disappeared and he swallowed hard; Steve's grip on his arm tightened.

# # # # #

"I'm worried about your father," Maggie said with a heavy sigh as she put the plate she had just dried into the cupboard.

Jeannie, washing the dishes in the sink, glanced over her shoulder. "So am I. But if anyone can talk to him about all this, it's Steve."

Maggie turned and leaned against the counter. "Have they always been that close?"

"Mike and Steve?" Jeannie asked as she blew a stray lock of hair out of her face, not wanting to touch it with her rubber-gloved hands. "Yeah, I guess they have." She paused for a few seconds, a dirty pot in her hands, and stared into space. "I think almost from the first time they met. I mean, my Dad had always gotten along with all his partners over the years but with Steve, it was just different."

"How so?"

Jeannie chuckled. "Well, for one thing, Steve was by far the youngest partner Mike ever had – well, except when Mike was the younger partner way back when, but that was 'before my time', so to speak. I always remember Mike's partners being about the same age as he was.

"Until Steve… Of course, I noticed that right away – all my raging teenage hormones kicked in the first time I laid eyes on him," she chuckled fondly, remembering, and Maggie laughed as well.

"I can see that, my dear, I can definitely see that. What did Mike say about it?"

"Oh, he invoked the Stone Golden Rule – 'My daughter will not date a cop'."

"And you obeyed him?"

Jeannie nodded. "I was never one of those rebellious girls that disrespected their parents. I loved my parents and I wouldn't do anything to disappoint my Dad. So, yeah, I did as I was told."

"Wow, good for you, kiddo. I don't know if I could have been so…easily dissuaded, shall I say?"

Jeannie chuckled. "Well, you didn't have Iron Mike for a father either."

"Iron Mike?"

"Oh god, please don't call him that; he hates it."

Maggie chuckled evilly. "Hah, finally I have something to lord over him at the right time and place."

Jeannie laughed. "Just don't tell him you got it from me, please? Woman to woman?"

"Your secret is safe with me; my lips will never tell."

"Thank you," Jeannie sighed, lifting the heavy pot from the sink and placing it in the dish rack. "Anyway, I think right from the very first moment they became partners, they had this special…quality, I don't now how else to describe it. They became so at ease with each other and they worked together perfectly, like yin yang.

"I know Mike loved Steve to death, and over the years I came to realize that the feeling was mutual. They've always been so incredibly comfortable with each other. It's been wonderful, really, and I'm so happy for my Dad that he has someone like Steve in his life."

Maggie had picked up the pot and was drying it slowly. "Mike must have taken it pretty hard when Steve retired."

Jeannie looked at her. "He was devastated. I've never seen him so torn apart. I mean, he fell apart when my Mom died, but her death was expected. What happened with Steve – well, that just tore my Dad to pieces. As upset as he was that Steve left the department, he did realize that at least Steve was still alive and still a part of our lives. And that gave him some kind of consolation. But still…it was an awful time for all of us."

Maggie looked at her fondly. "Your father is loved by a lot of people, isn't he?"

Jeannie stopped cleaning out the sink, staring into space for several seconds. Then she smiled warmly and proudly. "Yeah, I think you're right. He is well loved. That's something pretty special to say about someone, isn't it? That they are well-loved."

Laughing gently but affectionately, Maggie nodded. "It sure is."

# # # # #

"Patrolman Metcalf, Sergeant Haseejian and Inspector Robbins, Homicide," the Armenian detective announced as they approached the uniformed officer, flashing their stars. "I hear you were the one that took a statement from that heroin addict you brought in here about 'the little shit that shot the cop'."

Metcalfe, not much older than Dan, nodded at them both. "Yeah, that was me."

"What, exactly, happened and what did he say?"

"My partner and I found him lying against a wall in an alley off Market; he was already pretty out of it but he was talking, sort of. He had his package of goods with him so we brought him to Narcotics 'cause we found some little bags of heroin speedballs in his pocket.

"I had him in the back of our car and he was drifting in and out, but as we got closer to the station, he started to realize we were arresting him and he started mouthing off louder and louder. And one of the things he said was that he thought there was a reward out there for 'that little shit that shot the cop' and that he knew where we could find him. But then he passed out before I could get anymore info out of him, and when he surfaced again a few minutes later, he couldn't remember what he was talking about."

"But you're sure he said 'that little shit that shot the cop'?" asked Dan.

"Absolutely. I mean, we've all been on the lookout for that kid, so when he said that, all the bells and whistles went off for me. And just so ya know, Sergeant," Metcalfe turned to Haseejian, "after we dropped the junkie off at Narcotics, my partner and I went back to where we picked him up and we started going through all the flop-houses in the neighborhood, in case the shooter was nearby. I mean, you know these junkies don't stray too far from their squats. But nothing, sorry."

"Don't be," said Haseejian, "you and your partner have done a hell of a job here. Thanks. So, anyway, what's the news on our little junkie friend?"

Metcalfe looked behind himself towards Emergency with a frustrated sigh. "Heroin overdose, and a bad one. He's unconscious and on life support and right now they're saying fifty-fifty. It could be over twenty-hours, and possibly longer, till he's lucid enough to talk, and that is if he doesn't die first…"

Haseejian shook his head. "Shit," he said quietly. "Thanks, Patrolman, you've done tremendous work here. We'll take over now. And thank your partner for us too, okay?"

"Thank you, sir."

As the officer moved away, Haseejian turned to Dan. "We wait again, I guess."

Dan nodded. "Yeah, but at least this time we have something substantial to hold onto, right?"

With a tired and frustrated sigh, Haseejian nodded, plodding slowly towards the waiting room.


	19. Chapter 19

"Do me a favor, will you? Don't tell Jeannie or Maggie about what we talked about tonight. I know they know, and I know how they want to be there for me, but right now, you're the only one I want to talk to about this, okay?"

With a soft chuckle, Steve nodded. "Not a problem." He looked at Mike fondly and cocked his head. "They just care about you, you know that, right?"

Mike was looking down, his gaze unfocused, his thoughts far away. He nodded absentmindedly and smiled wistfully. "Steve," he said hoarsely, suddenly, then stopped and cleared his throat. "I'm scared," he said breathlessly, squeezing his eyes shut, his face crumpling as he tried to stop the tears. He brought his left hand up to cover his eyes.

Steve got up quickly, moved closer to the bed and, gently and carefully, pulled Mike's upper body towards him, cradling Mike's head against his stomach. "I know, I know," he said soothingly, feeling the older man shudder, his chest heaving.

Groaning in pain, Mike quickly got himself under control and, as Steve let him go, he collapsed back onto the pillows, face contorted in distress. Steve kept his hands on Mike's shoulder and the top of his head as the older man willed himself to slow his breathing and allow the pain to subside. It seemed to take forever until Steve felt Mike's taut muscles relax under his touch and the lines of discomfort began to fade from his face.

Mike laid there, eyes closed, mouth slightly open, breathing shallowly. Steve sat with him, his gentle physical contact providing all the comfort Mike needed at the moment. Eventually the older man opened his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, and Steve shook his head gently.

"You have nothing to be sorry about." He smiled warmly. "You've had one hell of a week, Michael. And you're doing great, better than great." He paused, then decided to press on. "Things have changed for you, there's no denying that, and you're gonna have to made some big decisions in the coming weeks, but you know what? You're still here. You're weren't killed and you weren't paralyzed, and you're gonna be okay. You also have a lot of people on your side, a lot of people who love you and want the best for you, and whatever decision you make, it'll be the right one _for you_. Do you believe me?"

Mike, who had been watching him with unabashed affection, smiled slightly and nodded. "How it is possible to be so lucky and unlucky at the same time?" he said with a quiet chuckle and Steve grinned, laughing lightly in relief.

He sat back down in the armchair and they stared at each other for several long seconds. Then Steve said, "Well, I don't know about you, but I feel like some dessert. Care to try some of Emilio's tiramisu?"

Grinning, Mike nodded with as much enthusiasm as he could muster at the moment. "I think it's just what the doctor ordered."

# # # # #

Dan crossed the waiting room with two cups in hand, holding the coffee out to Haseejian. The sergeant took it with a curt nod as Dan dropped into the chair beside him, taking the lid off his cup of green tea and taking a sip.

Haseejian had done the same with his coffee, but his stare had remained rooted to the floor and he never said a word.

"You know," Dan ventured cautiously, "this Johnson guy is gonna be out of it all night and probably most of tomorrow. Maybe you should go home and get some sleep -?"

"I'm not going anywhere," the senior detective cut him off. "This is the closest I've gotten to the little scum-bag that shot Mike and I'm not going anywhere until I get to interrogate this little junkie bastard."

Dan had never heard Haseejian talking like this before; this was not the genial, easy-to-get-along-with sergeant he had come to know over the past two years. This was a man possessed and frighteningly focused. Dan thought back to Healey's words, of caution and expectation, and he knew he was going to be in for a long night.

# # # # #

Jeannie turned off the kitchen light and took the stairs to the second floor. The door to Mike's room was closed, but she stopped before it anyway. "Have a good night, Maggie," she called out before heading to her own room and closing the door.

"You too, sweetie," Maggie's voice followed her to her room.

Maggie had been sitting on the bed in Mike's room, lost in thought. It had been a day of many revelations, she mused, not all of them easy to accept. She wondered what was going on in Mike's hospital room right now, how their conversation was going, if Mike was keeping his thoughts and feelings to himself or opening up to the one person in his life, it seemed, from whom he held no secrets. Well, she smiled to herself, no secrets now that her own presence in Mike's life had been disclosed.

But perhaps most disturbing of all was what was revealed when he had helped Mike into his new pajamas and robe. She had seen him earlier when he was still unconscious, his chest heavily bandaged after his surgeries. But since then, most of the bandages had been removed, save for the three small ones over the actual wounds themselves. The large incisions, from his sternum around to his mid-back, between the third and fourth ribs on both sides of his chest, were disturbing to look at, and she could only imagine the pain he had been in and was continuing to endure.

She had tried not to stare while she was helping him dress, and he tried to brush off her concerned looks with a wry and comforting smile. But the way he had held his breath while he stood to put on the pajama bottoms, or that he couldn't raise his arms and she had to slide the top up his arms and over his shoulders; those images had stayed with her all day and continued to haunt her now.

Almost in a daze, she got up from the bed and crossed to the closet. She opened the door and took Mike's old blue dressing gown off the hook on the back. Gathering it into her arms, she crossed back to the bed, laid down and, pressing the gown to her breast, wept silently.

# # # # #

The floor seemed deserted when he got off the elevator and start down the corridor. He knew it was well past visiting hours but he had a feeling that was an arbitrary criteria and not altogether intransigent. He found the room he was looking for and paused, suddenly apprehensive, before pushing the door open as silently as possible.

He froze with the door half-open, knowing it would be unconscionable to disturb what lay before him. Mike was obviously asleep, peacefully and painlessly. And lying almost spread-eagled in the armchair, his head back, mouth slightly open and his right hand holding tightly to his former partner's, Steve was equally dead to the world.

With a warm, affectionate smile, Dan backed slowly out of the room and let the door close silently after him. With a resigned sigh, he headed back to the elevators.

# # # # #

A man walking his dog on De Haro took no notice as the dome light in the dark blue sedan, parked near the bottom of the steep hill, snapped on. Its occupant picked up a notebook from the seat beside him, flipped it open and made a notation. Then the engine started up and the car slipped quietly away from the curb, rolling slowly up the street and around the corner.

# # # # #

A dull but persistent ache in his chest brought Mike to an uncomfortable consciousness. He tried to breathe shallowly to help ease the pain but it didn't seem to help. He knew he was due for another dose of Demerol; they had hoped to start reducing his medication today, but something told him that decision would have to be tabled for now.

He started to shift slightly, hoping to find a more pain free position, when he suddenly realized that not only was Steve still in the room with him, but he was sound asleep and holding his hand. Mike stopped moving, trying not to disturb his hirsute friend, but it was too late. Steve snapped awake with a start, sitting up quickly, pulling his hand out of Mike's.

They looked at each other, both slightly surprised then they both chuckled, though Mike's was cut short by a slight gasp. "You okay?" Steve asked quickly, brow furrowed.

Mike nodded. "Yeah, just a little sore this morning," he said carefully, and saw Steve reach for the call button on the edge of the bed. "No, Steve…" he tried to stop him.

"You need a shot, no arguments." Steve knew that if Mike was admitting it, then he was more than 'a little sore'. One of the residents had come in last night just after they had finished their dessert, took Mike's vitals and, with Steve's help, removed Mike's bathrobe so he wouldn't overheat during the night. Everything had been fine then, and Steve was now worried that Mike was showing so much discomfort this morning. He didn't need another setback.

Mike continued to glare his annoyance as a nurse pushed open the wooden door and hurried into the room. "Everything all right, Lieutenant?" she asked pleasantly as she approached the bed.

Mike opened his mouth but Steve spoke first. "He's having a lot of pain this morning," he said quickly with a brief, 'don't interrupt' glare in Mike's direction.

The nurse smiled at Mike then spoke to Steve. "Dr. Carter is on call this morning. I'll page him. It won't be long." And with a curt nod, she turned and left the room.

As the door closed, Mike awarded his young companion a withering stare. "Happy?" he growled.

Steve smiled. "Yes," he chuckled, dropping a hand onto Mike's forearm and squeezing.

# # # # #

A loud scream. A chair falling over. A low comforting voice.

Dan snapped awake, disoriented, then quickly realized he was sitting in one of the hard plastic chairs in Franklin's Emergency waiting room. He looked across the room, where two uniformed police officers were helping console a middle-aged woman who had obviously just received some very bad news.

He glanced around, noticing that it was morning. Stiff, he started to stretch, then realized he was alone. He got up quickly and crossed to the nurse's station. "Hi," he said pleasantly, taking out his star and flashing it, "Inspector Robbins –"

"Oh yes, Inspector," said the older nurse with a wide smile, "what can I do for you?"

"Ah, my colleague, Sergeant Haseejian... do you know where he is?"

"Oh yes, the sergeant. That young man you are here with, Benjamin Johnson? He started to wake up about an hour ago and the sergeant has been in with him ever since."

"Thank you," Dan said cordially, but his mind was racing. He glanced towards the corridor leading to the Emergency Department. 'Damn him,' he thought, and started off down the hall.


	20. Chapter 20

Flashing his star, Dan moved swiftly past the nurses and doctors at the Emergency Room entrance, glancing through the openings in the curtains surrounding the beds, listening for the familiar timbre of his colleague's voice. Unable to locate him, Dan returned to the nurse's station.

"Benjamin Johnson, can you tell me where he is, please?"

The middle-aged nurse dropped her gaze to the clipboard on the table. "He's been moved into a room – 2B at the end of the hall." She pointed in the right direction.

"Thank you," Dan said curtly, already on the move. The door was shut and he pushed it open without knocking, not sure what he was going to find. He stopped short. Johnson's eyes were closed and he was obviously non-responsive; in addition to all the tubes and wires he was attached to, his mouth and nose were obscured by a large oxygen mask. Haseejian was sitting in a chair near the head of the bed, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. He looked up when he heard the door open.

Neither of them said anything for a few seconds then Dan cleared his throat. "I, ah, I was just wondering where you went to." He gestured towards Johnson with his head. "Has he woken up at all?"

Haseejian shook his head, looking at the floor once more. "I just thought I'd wait in here in case he did. He might say something when he's waking up…" He looked back up and shrugged. "You never know."

Dan nodded. "Sounds good. Hey, ah, now that I'm up," he said with a chuckle, "want me to go get you a cup of coffee?"

Haseejian smiled warmly. "Yeah, thanks, I'd appreciate that."

Returning the smile, Dan let the door close behind him and made his way back down the corridor. He exhaled loudly in relief.

# # # # #

Steve was standing beside the bed when Jeannie and Maggie pushed the door open and entered in a controlled rush. Maggie's worried look evaporated quickly when both men turned toward the door and smiled, Mike's eyes lighting up. She stood at the door for a second, gathering herself with a deep inhale, as Jeannie pushed past her and approached the bed. "You look great this morning, Mike," she said happily as she leaned over to give her father a kiss.

"I feel good," Mike smiled back, his eyes barely leaving Maggie.

Jeannie glanced up at Steve and his look told her that all was as good as it could be right now, and she instantly relaxed. Jeannie turned to look at Maggie, who managed to pull her own eyes away from Mike, and the younger woman's expression reinforced the positive vibes that had been emanating from her fiance since she entered the room.

Jeannie looked at the younger man again. "Steve, Maggie and I wanted to get here as soon as we could so we didn't stop for breakfast. Why don't you come with me right now and we'll go get some? Leave Maggie here with Mike…"

Steve, who was having a hard time looking away from Maggie's intense stare towards the bed, shook his head quickly and glanced down at Jeannie. "Ah, what? Oh, ah, yeah…great idea." He looked at Mike and smiled. "We'll, ah, we'll see you two in a little bit?"

Jeannie had taken him by the hand and pulled him towards the door. As it closed slowly behind them, Maggie, her face aglow, finally approached the bed. "You sure you're okay?" she asked as she got closer.

Mike nodded, smiling happily. "I'm doing great, and even better now that you're here."

She reached out and put a hand on his cheek. "You, ah, you got room in that bed for a visitor?"

"Oh, I think I can manage," he said with a chuckle, carefully starting to shift to the side of the bed, trying not to grimace.

She slipped off her shoes and gingerly climbed onto the bed, lying on her side. He couldn't wrap his arm around her so he placed both hands on his stomach, and as she leaned against his arm, her head against his shoulder, she put her hand over his; he rested his cheek against the top of her head.

After several long seconds, he said softly, his voice laced with warmth and irony, "This is a big day for me, you know."

"Oh," she responded, a delighted, feigned innocence in her voice, "and why is that?"

"I get to stand up and go for a walk today."

"Well, you know what the Chinese say – 'A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.'"

"Well, I don't know if it's going to end up being a thousand miles but today is definitely gonna be the first step."

Maggie's grip on his hand tightened, and her voice became low and suddenly serious. "No matter how long your journey is going to be, Mike, no matter how many steps it takes or where you eventually end up, I am going to be beside you the entire way. I want you to know that."

She heard him take a quick breath and hold it, then she felt his lips against the top of her head. "I'm counting on it, beautiful," he said quietly as he laid his cheek against her head once more.

# # # # #

"So he's really doing okay?" Jeannie asked as they got into Mike's car. She had given Steve the keys and he settled in behind the wheel.

"He's got a ways to go but he's handling it pretty well right now. Who knows if that's gonna last but as of this moment, he's trying to come to grips with it and, yeah, we had a good talk."

"I am so relieved. Maggie and I were really worried last night."

"Well, it's not all behind us yes, but… Anyway, he asked me to let you guys know that he doesn't want to talk to anyone about all this except me for now, so if you two…"

"Understood," Jeannie said quickly as Steve took the car out of the parking lot. "Maggie's one smart lady, she'll figure that out." She looked across the front seat with a warm smile. "Thanks, Steve, I don't know what any of us would do without you."

He chuckled. "You're welcome. But to be honest, I don't know what I'd do without Mike so I'm doing this for my own benefit as well as yours, you know?" As he turned a corner near the hospital, he said casually "Ah, where are we going?"

"Oh, right, Mama's. I want to get Mike some oatmeal this morning, help build up his strength."

Steve nodded. He toyed with the idea of telling her what had happened that morning, but Dr. Carter had assured him that Mike's discomfort was temporary and nothing to worry about. He really hoped that was going to be true.

# # # # #

"Are you ready?" Dr. Webster asked.

Mike, dressed in his burgundy bathrobe, and now wearing his own slippers, was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking a little apprehensive. He looked up and nodded.

"Okay," said the specialist, "let's do this." He nodded at Dr, Carter, and between them they placed one hand under Mike's arms, the other under his elbows and, as Mike stood, helped him to his feet and steadied him. The older man held his breath until he was upright, then let it out slowly, as if testing both his stability and his pain threshold.

Removing their hands, but staying within easy reach, the doctors moved away slightly and Mike looked up, smiling. His eyes quickly swept the small group looking on – Maggie, Jeannie, Steve - all of whom were staring at him in relief.

"How does it feel?" Jeannie asked hopefully.

Mike nodded with a facial shrug. "Pretty good…so far." He glanced at Webster. "Let's just not stand here, I want to go for a walk," he said with a chuckle, and the smiling doctor nodded his approval.

"Slow and easy now," Webster said, hovering as Mike took a step towards Maggie.

He crossed the three short paces towards her, staring at her smiling face, and when he got to her, threaded his arm through hers. "Maggie Jarris," he said formally, "would you care to go for a walk?"

Her eyebrows shot up and she cocked her head. "Why, Michael Stone, I would love to."

The others chuckled and Steve looked at Jeannie with a broad grin. As the older couple started slowly towards the door, Steve called out merrily, "Remember your curfew!"

# # # # #

Dan exited the elevator and turned in the direction of Mike's room. He was almost there when the door opened and Steve and Jeannie exited into the corridor, laughing and smiling.

"Hey, you two, what's going on?"

"Oh, Dan," said Jeannie with a warm look when she saw him. "Mike's doing great. He just went for a walk and now he and Maggie are having some quiet time."

Steve grinned and nodded with delicious mischief written all over his face, and Dan immediately understood. "Quiet time," Steve whispered suggestively and Jeannie slapped him on the arm, feigning annoyance.

Dan chuckled. "Wow, you don't know how great it is to hear that."

"What's up with you?" Steve asked. "Are you still working with Norm?"

"Ah, yeah, we caught a lead on some junkie who may know where Stanton is but the guy OD'd and is barely hanging on down in Emerg. Norm's keeping vigil." He looked at Jeannie apologetically and she put a hand on his arm.

"I know you guys are doing your best. One good thing, Mike hasn't said one word, to me or Maggie anyway, about the kid who shot him. Has he said anything to you, Steve?"

The professor shook his head. "Not a word. Not surprising, though, with everything else he's been going through. That'll come though, I have no doubt about that. That cop instinct will kick in again."

"Well, hopefully by then we can tell him we have the kid in custody."

# # # # #

Dan pushed the wooden door open, anxious to tell Haseejian the good news about Mike. But the homicide detective wasn't there, and Johnson looked different, almost awake.

After a split second, Dan stepped back out of the room and jogged to the nurse's station. "Excuse me, miss," he called at a young nurse, "excuse me, can you help me?"

She turned with raised eyebrows, and he held up his star. "The police officer that was in Room 2B, do you know when he left?"

"The sergeant? Yes, he left just a couple of minutes ago. He seemed to be in quite a hurry."

"Do you have any idea where he went?" Dan asked anxiously.

"No, sorry, I don't. But someone said he dropped something on the way out. Just a second." She crossed behind the counter and reached under it, picking up a black wastepaper basket and putting it on the counter. She took out a couple of small crumpled pieces of white paper and unfolded them. She tossed a couple aside and then, "Ah, this is it." She handed the paper to Dan.

He stared at it, struggling to make out the faint handwriting. Then, nodding vigorously, he started down the corridor. "Thank you!" he called over his shoulder.

Eschewing the elevators, he took the stairs, racing down to the parking lot. He glanced around as he charged through the door into the bright December sunlight, looking for Norm's car, the green Galaxy sedan. It was nowhere to be found. He hurried to his own car and got behind the wheel, muttering to himself in frustration.

Dan slammed the car into reverse and squealed from the parking space, cursing the fact that his personal car didn't have a scanner and he had no way of calling for back-up or to send out an APB. And he knew that stopping to do that would amount to a death sentence for somebody – Haseejian or Stanton. Right now, he knew, the odds were fifty-fifty.

He vaguely knew where the exact address was and he drove recklessly in that direction. Not having lights or a siren, he was at the mercy of the light Sunday afternoon crowd, and he prayed that he wouldn't cross paths with an intercepting black-and-white.

His luck held and he wove his way to the Mission district without any trouble. He glanced once more at the address on piece of paper on the seat beside him, realizing he was very near. He began to scan the alleys and cross-streets for any sign of Haseejian's car.

Passing between two buildings, he thought he caught a glimpse of a green fender. He slammed to a stop, threw his car in reverse then accelerated up the alley. The Galaxy was parked haphazardly across a sidestreet, it's driver's side door open, it's grill pointed at a run-down flophouse.

Dan pulled to a stop, turning off and exiting his own vehicle in one quick movement. As he sprinted towards the building, he realized almost peripherally that the Galaxy was still running, the radio still broadcasting.

He pulled his gun and approached the front door cautiously. With his .38 pointed up, he grabbed the doorknob with his right hand and pulled it towards himself. The door was unlocked and opened easily and, thankfully, quietly. He stepped inside quickly, listening for anything to tell him that Haseejian was in the building.

Suddenly, from an upper floor, he heard two loud bangs, like a foot against a door. He was immediately on the move, up the flight of stairs to the second floor, hoping against hope that he could get to the Armenian detective as quickly as possible.

He had just reached the second floor landing when two loud booms reached his ears and he stopped, gasping for breath. "No, no, no," he yelled over and over to himself as he pulled himself together and continued to race up the stairs. But there was no mistaking the sound that a .38 makes in the confines of small room.


	21. Chapter 21

Maggie helped Mike ease back onto the pillows. He closed his eyes, obviously tired, but a warm, contented smile lingered.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly, stroking the side of his face.

He opened his eyes slightly. "I feel great." They had spent almost half an hour walking up and down the corridor, under the watchful eye of smiling doctors and nurses. Everyone on the floor, of course, knew about the police lieutenant and his very close brush with death and, in a city still reeling from the murders of its mayor and a city supervisor, good news was a welcome commodity. "We gotta start taking these strolls more often," he chuckled.

She smiled back, leaned forward to give him a quick kiss then looked at her watch. "We've got a good hour or so till Jeannie and Steve get back here with dinner. What say you and I do a little cuddling, sailor?"

Mike chuckled again, already starting to shift over on the bed. "Now that sounds like a wonderful idea." As he got closer to the edge of the bed, she sat and began to stretch out. "You know," Mike said with a smile, "if I play my cards right, what with you and Jeannie and Steve all hanging out here, I may never have to eat another hospital meal again."

As she lay down beside him, Maggie laughed. "Ah, that's the method behind your madness, is it?"

"There has to be an upside to all of this," he joked, trying to lift his left arm enough so she could lie against it, but he had to stop, wincing in pain, and brought it back down to his side. "I mean," he continued, trying to make light of it, "not that you're not an upside too, of course."

Her smile had disappeared as she watched him try to raise his arm, and she hoped he hadn't seen the worry in her eyes. As she lay down, she teased, "Oh, I see, I come second to a good restaurant-cooked meal, do I?"

Mike pretended to pause before answering then he grinned. She laughed, kissing the side of his face before burrowing her head against his shoulder.

# # # # #

Taking the stairs two at a time, Dan Robbins, his .38 pointed slightly upwards, raced to where he thought had heard the two loud gunshots. Reaching the landing of the third floor, he stopped, listening, trying to hear anything over the pounding of his own heart that could tell him where the reports had come from. Further down the short dark corridor, he could see light spill from an open door.

With a quick glance back down the stairwell to make sure he was alone, he started quietly down the hallway, every sense alert. The building, its walls graffiti-covered, the halls and stairway littered with garbage and human excrement, the smell so overwhelming it was difficult to breathe, seemed empty, and Dan was grateful for that at least.

He approached the open door silently, careful where he walked, but still he could hear nothing. The smell of gunpowder hung heavily in the air. Trying to keep the image of a badly wounded or dead Haseejian from his thoughts, he stopped at the open door. The frame was shredded, large splinters of wood, surprisingly clean and crisp, now the only evidence that a deadbolt had been in use.

The door itself hung open, wide enough that Dan could squeeze past it, eliminating the possibility that it would make a noise and therefore alert whoever was inside. Tiptoeing down the short hallway, its floor covered with discarded food containers and soiled clothing, Dan swung into the opening of the first room, in a crouch, his .38 out in front of him. The room was empty.

He took a step back into the hallway and continued further into the apartment. As the kitchen came into view, he became aware of someone leaning against the wall, and from the first glimpse of the dark gray material, he recognized Haseejian's suitcoat. Trying to calm himself, breathing silently through his open mouth, Dan eased into the doorway.

Haseejian was sitting on the floor, his back against the wall and legs splayed out in front of him. His head was down and his hands were in his lap, the .38 still in his right hand. Swallowing nervously, Dan looked anxiously for any sign of blood, confused and relieved when he didn't see anything. He took a step closer, then almost jumped back when Haseejian raised his head and looked at him.

"Norm!" Dan gasped, startled, and took another step towards his colleague, lowering his gun, "Norm, are you okay?"

The Armenian detective looked at him blankly and Dan's brow furrowed even more. "Norm?" he said again, more urgently.

His expression unchanging, Haseejian turned away, looking across the kitchen. Dan followed his gaze and froze. Propped up against the cupboards in front of the sink, his head down on his chest, arms limply at his sides and legs criss-crossed, was the barely identifiable body of John Lewis Stanton.

# # # # #

"You know, we're gonna have to tell him about Moscone and Milk soon," Jeannie said as she and Steve carried the paper bags of food into the elevator on the first floor of the hospital. "I mean, now that he's walking around the floor, he's bound to see a newspaper or somebody's gonna say something to him."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Steve replied as he punched the button to the fourth floor. "Let's wait a bit and I'll see if he's up to the news."

"Yeah, there's no telling how he's going to take it. I know he liked Moscone. Most of the department hated him, but Mike thought he was a pretty good guy, a 'straight-shooter'," Jeannie said with a chuckle. "Do you know if he ever met Milk?"

Steve shook his head. "I have no idea. I, on the other hand, met Dan White once. He didn't make much of an impression on me, I can tell you that, and the only reason I remembered was when he made City Supervisor and they talked about his past, they mentioned he was a cop and that was when I remembered that I'd met him."

"Where? At a scene?" Jeannie asked as the elevator doors opened and they headed down the corridor towards Mike's room.

"No, funnily enough, in a bar. I'd gone with a couple of the guys for a beer one night. Your father wasn't there – he had a meeting that night, I think."

"What did you think of him? Dan White, I mean, not my father," she giggled.

"Ha ha," Steve smiled back. "I don't really remember. Not much, I think. He was just too…I don't know…'whitebread'," he snickered as they pushed the wooden door open and entered the room.

# # # # #

Stunned, Dan lowered his gun. He looked back at Haseejian, who continued to stare at the dead man. Dan holstered his .38, took another step towards Stanton and squatted. The junkie/shooter had obviously been dead for several days, if not a week; the stench of decomposing human flesh was unmistakable and staggering. It took all of the young inspectors might not to gag, but he did put a hand over his nose and mouth.

"I think he came here right after he shot Mike," Haseejian said quietly, his voice flat and dull. "I guess we'll never know if he did it deliberately or not."

Dan, who had turned to look at his colleague as he spoke, let his eyes travel slowly back to the body, coming to rest on the syringe that was still in the crook of Stanton's left elbow.

"This is why I couldn't find the little bastard," Haseejian continued, "he was here the entire time."

Dan stood up and crossed the room, extending his hand. Haseejian looked up and, with a small, grim, grateful smile, took the proffered hand and hoisted himself up, sliding his .38 back into its holster.

"I heard shots," Dan said.

Haseejian nodded. "I couldn't kick the door open, it wouldn't budge. I shot it open."

Dan nodded. "Look, ah, you stay here, I'll go down to your car and call this in." Slapping his colleague on the shoulder, and with one more look at Stanton's body, Dan left the kitchen, leaving Haseejian standing over the remains of the person that had so consumed his life for the past week.

# # # # #

"So, what was it like to have your first steak in awhile?" Steve asked, as Jeannie and Maggie started to gather up the remains of their dinner, putting it back in the paper bags.

Mike settled back on the pillows with a satiated sigh. Chuckling happily, he smiled. "That was great, thank you. I think I'm finally starting to see the light at the end of this particular tunnel." He glanced at Maggie, the love so evident in his eyes. "We took two walks today, and they want me up and about even more tomorrow."

Jeannie had turned back to her father and smiled.

"Dr. Webster told us that they might let him out day after tomorrow," Maggie added proudly.

"Really?" Steve asked with raised eyebrows, looking at his former partner. "Wow, that would be great."

"Oh, Daddy, that's fantastic." Jeannie crossed to the bed and kissed him. "Oh, gosh," she said quickly, turning to Maggie, "then that means we're gonna have to do a major shopping trip to the grocery store tomorrow to get stocked up."

"Um, I like the sound of that," Mike said warmly, "home-cooking. But, wait a minute, young lady, don't you have a Ph.D. to work on?"

"Mike, in case you forgot, it's December. There's not much going on at the University now anyway – they're sitting exams – and any research I need to do I can do from here. I'll have one of my colleagues send me down what I need."

She threw a meaningful glance in Maggie's direction. "Besides, Christmas will be here before you know it, and I want you a hundred percent by then, because after that we're gonna have a wedding to plan, aren't we?"

# # # # #

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow," Steve kissed Jeannie on the cheek as the door shut behind the women and he turned back to the room. With a warm smile, he approached the bed. "How are you feeling?" he asked as he sat in the armchair.

Mike smiled wistfully. "Tired. It was a busy day. But good, really good."

"Been giving things any more thought?"

Mike inhaled as deeply as he could. "Well, I really didn't have much time for that today, which was a good thing, I guess. God knows I'm gonna have enough time in the next month or so."

Steve nodded soberly, leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees and dropped his head. Mike looked at him warily. "What is it?" When Steve looked up, eyes questioning, Mike continued, "I know that body language. Something's on your mind. What is it?"

Sighing deeply, Steve leaned back and nodded, as if making up his mind. "Mike, the day you were shot…something else happened that day, something that's changed this city, probably forever." As Mike's attention focused even more, Steve pulled the armchair closer to the bed and he smiled enigmatically.


	22. Chapter 22

"So, you think that Johnson character got his speedballs off Stanton's dead body?" Healey asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

Dan put down his cup of green tea. "Probably. It makes sense. I mean, Johnson said he knew where Stanton was, he didn't say anything about him being alive." He looked up from his study of the table. "I don't think I've ever seen Norm so shattered. And I don't think I've ever been so relieved. You know, for a few seconds there, I honestly thought he'd killed the kid in cold blood." He shuddered.

"Well," Healey said, leaning back, "that's behind us now. Thank god. It'll be good to have you and Norm back on the squad. Things have been pretty quiet, homicide-wise, since the assassinations but who knows how long that's gonna last."

The inspector nodded.

"So what's the latest on Mike?"

Dan smiled. "Well, we're pretty sure they're gonna let him go home tomorrow. He's still got a long way to go but they figure he'll recover faster at home, and I kinda think they're right. Say, ah, a bunch of the guys are gonna go to the hospital tonight after work – Steve said to come by and have supper with them all in his room."

"Tonight?" Healey asked, puzzled. "I would have thought it would be easier to wait till Mike got home."

Dan frowned as well. "Yeah, I thought the same thing but Steve insisted it be tonight. So some of guys are getting together and going over as a group. Want to join us?"

Healey looked down at his coffee cup and hesitated. "No, ah…I think I'll wait till after Mike gets home, go see him one-on-one, so to speak."

Dan knew Healey was still a little uncomfortable assuming Mike's position as head of homicide. He nodded in understanding. "Well, I'll tell him you said hi."

"Thanks." Suddenly Healey brightened, looking up at Dan with a broad grin. "Hey, is what I heard correct – Mike's got a girlfriend?"

# # # # #

All eyes turned at the sound of the discreet knock. "Come in," called Steve, and the door opened on a grinning Dan.

"Look who I found wandering the halls," he said with a laugh as he was followed into the room by Tanner, Lessing, Haseejian and two young assistant inspectors, Jeff Holburn and Charlie McAllister. Tanner and the two inspectors had two large paper bags each, and Haseejian carried a flat cardboard box.

"What's all this?" Mike said happily from the bed, grinning, obviously delighted to see his men.

"This, sir, is dinner," Tanner said with a chuckle as he and others found places to put the bags down.

Haseejian, whose face still registered the ordeal of the past week, approached the bed tentatively. "How are you doing, Mike?" he asked quietly. But before the older man could answer, he continued quickly, "I am so sorry I haven't been in sooner –"

Mike, sensing that there was more going on here, cut him off quickly. "Norm, Norm, it's okay… really… I haven't been much company until a couple of days ago… it's okay…"

Haseejian smiled gratefully and moved away, as if not wanting to belabour the point, and Mike noticed Dan's concerned stare following the Armenian detective.

"Ah, so, fellas, can I make some introductions?" Steve said quickly, trying to draw attention away from the awkward exchange. He introduced Maggie, first name only, to everyone, and Jeannie and himself to the new inspectors.

"And we brought enough for everybody," Lessing announced as he opened one of the bags and started to hand out paper plates.

"Oh, sorry, gents," Jeannie announced, "but this has got to be a guys only affair. Maggie and I have a lot to do tonight. They're letting Mike out tomorrow," she announced proudly to the room, and Mike was rewarded with 'yeh's' and happy nods, "and we are going to make sure everything in the house is ready for him."

She picked up her purse. "So, gentlemen, we will take our leave, and see you all at our house in a couple of weeks for a real party. Right, Mike?" She turned to her father with a happy smile.

"You bet, sweetheart," he grinned, and she leaned over the bed to give him a quick kiss before heading to the door.

Trying her best to be discreet, Maggie picked up her purse as well and started for the door. She stopped, hesitated, turned and strode back to the bed, leaned over and gave Mike a long, passionate kiss, walked back to the door and then turned to face a small sea of startled faces. As she pulled open the door, she growled sexily, "Gentlemen," and then she was gone.

# # # # #

Jeannie was still laughing as she and Maggie got into her father's car. "I almost feel sorry for Mike, but then again, I bet he's still grinning like the cat that ate the canary."

Maggie chuckled. "I hope so. He needs a little levity in his life right now. Did Steve mention anything to you today about their little talk last night?"

Jeannie shook her head as she put the key in the ignition and started the car. "No, but we really didn't get a chance to talk without Mike overhearing us. Mike seemed okay, but he's really good at hiding his feelings sometimes."

"Yeah, I know. It's bothering me, though – he knows about Milk and Moscone now, and he also knows about his own future with the department. And he hasn't mentioned anything about either of them. I wish he would talk to me instead of bottling things up."

"Well, he does have Steve, thank god." She pulled the car out of the parking space and started towards the exit. "And I think, once we get him home and there's just mainly you and me and him, he'll be more forthcoming."

"I hope so," Maggie said quietly.

# # # # #

"This is really good," Lessing said between forkfuls of chow mein.

"See, I told you to try The Red Dragon. My wife and I have been going there for years and they've never disappointed," Tanner said with a self-satisfied smile.

"Is that the one on Jackson?" McAllister asked.

"Yep."

Mike was watching Haseejian, who had taken a seat near the door, slightly away from the others. Dan glanced from Mike to Haseejian, frowning. He wished the sergeant didn't look so miserable; he knew it was worrying his old boss.

Steve glanced at his watch, then stood quickly and put his plate down on Mike's overbed table. "I hate to do this," he said to Mike, "but I've got to get out of here. I promised someone I'd meet them tonight." He turned to the others. "Sorry, guys, previous commitment." He smiled apologetically at Mike. "I'll be here first thing in the morning. Have a good night and sleep well." He winked.

As he moved towards the door, he caught Dan's eye and gestured with his head for the young inspector to join him in the corridor.

"Dan, there's something going on tonight that I have to be there for. Do me a favour, will ya, and make sure Norm comes out of his funk or Mike's gonna have a heart attack trying to find out why."

"Do you think we should tell him about Stanton?"

Steve thought about it for a moment. "Only if he asks directly. I don't want him to think we're keeping anything else from him."

"How did he take the news about Moscone and Milk?"

Steve shook his head and smiled slightly. "A lot better than I thought he would. He was upset, of course, but he asked me all about it, the logistics, the timeline, what people were speculating…Mike Stone the cop." Dan nodded affectionately. "Well, I gotta go. You guys have a good time tonight, but don't let them stay too late. Mike had a busy day and it's going to be a long one tomorrow." His gaze turned inward, his thoughts suddenly far away, then he shook himself back to the present. "I'll see you tomorrow."

# # # # #

When Dan opened the hospital room door again, Haseejian was seated near the head of the bed with Lessing, talking to Mike. Tanner was standing at a side table, cutting the square cake they had brought and distributing the slices. He took a piece of cake from Tanner then crossed to the bed.

"So, ah, what _do_ you remember?" Haseejian was asking.

Dan glanced quickly at Mike, worried about his reaction, but the older man looked slowly from the cake on the table in front of him to his sergeant and shook his head once, looking calm and not in the least disturbed. "I remember most of it, Norm. I knew the kid was on something, or coming down off something, and I knew I had to be really careful. But I also knew he had a .22 and even if he did get off a shot, I had a chance." He stopped for a few moments. "But the second I heard that voice at the door, the customers coming in, I knew it was all over with that kid. There was no hesitation, he just turned the barrel towards me and fired."

Mike's gaze had turned inward. No one in the room moved. "The first shot was this one," he said quietly, his right hand going to his lower left rib cage. "It felt like I was kicked but I also knew he'd missed my heart so I knew I had a chance. It knocked me back and I started to fall…and that's when he shot again…" His hand moved up to the wound in his upper left chest. "I felt that one too… that one burned… but I don't remember anything after that. I don't even remember hitting the floor." His eyes focused again and he looked at Haseejian. "I didn't even know I was shot a third time till I woke up in the hospital."

Haseejian leaned forward even more, his voice low and measured. "The guys in the lab told us that the powder burns on your jacket meant that the third shot was fired from about four inches above your chest." As Mike stared into his eyes, he said gently, "Thank god he was high, Mike. He was trying to shoot you in the heart."

# # # # #

Jeannie pulled the car to the curb, shifted into park and glanced at her watch. "Perfect timing. I can get to Tony's before he closes with no problem. He promised me he would have the roast cut and ready to go." As Maggie got out of the car, she continued, "I should be back before they come with the recliner."

After they left the hospital, Jeannie and Maggie had visited a furniture store where Maggie had bought a brand new recliner for Mike, then, using their feminine wiles and a small bribe, persuaded the store owner to have the chair delivered that night.

"I'll move the furniture in the living room to make room for it," Maggie said with a grin. "Drive safe." She slammed the door, turning towards the concrete steps as the sedan pulled away from the curb.

It was pitch black and she could see her breath as she mounted the stairs to the house, which was also in darkness. Smiling, she fished her keys out of her purse, found the right one for the lock and opened the heavy front door. She had just closed the door behind her and was reaching for the switch when the overhead light in the kitchen snapped on.

Startled, she dropped her purse and froze. A heavy-set older man stepped into the backlight from the kitchen, his features unrecognizable in the gloom, but she could easily see the gun in his right hand.

"Hello, Maggie."


	23. Chapter 23

_**Thanks to everyone for continuing to read and, hopefully, enjoy, and many thanks as well to those who take the time to review. And to those who I can't thank 'in person', like the ever faithful Nans, Smithy and now and Kahva, your loyalty is very appreciated!**_

"Why are you here, Frank?" Maggie asked breathlessly, not taking her eyes from the silhouette in the kitchen doorway.

The man chuckled dryly. "Really? You have to ask me that?" He took a step towards her. "You've been sloppy, Maggie. What, you didn't think anyone would notice?" She started to bend down to pick up her purse. "Leave that there," he said quickly, firmly. "Where you're going, you won't be needing that."

She straightened back up. "Where are we going?"

"You don't think I'd do it here, do ya? In a cop's house? With his daughter about to come home anytime? You wouldn't want me to have to eliminate her too, would ya?"

She shook her head. "Leave her alone. I'll go anywhere you want me to go."

"That's my girl," he said coldly as he crossed closer to her. "See, if you're a good girl, I'll leave your cop and his daughter alone. But if you make this harder than it has to be, well, it wouldn't take too much to finish him off, and she's just a little thing, she won't put up much of a fight, I wouldn't think."

"Leave them alone," Maggie said raggedly but defiantly, stiffening when he got closer.

"That's more like it," he said, staying just out of arm's reach. "Now what's say you get your keys back out and we leave the way you just came in, nice and natural, as if nothing's wrong. Let's put the lights on, shall we, so the house looks all nice and lived in." She flinched as he reached past her towards the switches, turning on both the porch and interior lights. "That's better."

Realizing she still had the house key in her hand, Maggie turned towards the door and turned the knob. She pulled the door open, shivering slightly; she wasn't sure if it was because of the cold night air or her present situation. She stepped out onto the landing and waited for him to join her and close the door behind him. She looked up and down the street but there was no one around, and all the cars were dark and empty.

"Be a good house guest now, Maggie, and lock the door. We wouldn't want anyone… untoward… showing up and finding the door unlocked, now would we?"

He stood behind her as she turned and locked the door, her hands shaking. He took the opportunity to glance up and down the street himself. Though he had kept the hand with the gun lowered the entire time, Maggie was well aware of its presence and his ability to use it; she wasn't going to take any chances – there was just too much at stake.

"Shall we?" he said with feigned courtesy, gesturing at the staircase, and she started down slowly. When they reached the sidewalk, she hesitated. He nodded down the block. "My car is the blue sedan, second from the bottom."

Catching her breath slightly, she started down the street, acutely aware that he was just two steps behind her the entire way.

# # # # #

"Big day today and big day tomorrow, hunh?" said Dan, standing at the head of the bed. He and Mike were alone, the others having left a few minutes earlier, a couple of whom, he knew, were waiting for him in the corridor.

Mike smiled warmly, his eyes half closed. "Yeah," he sighed happily. "I can't believe I get to go home so soon but the doctors seem to think I'm ready. And far be it from me to argue."

"Well, I'm really glad you're doing so well, and so is everybody else, especially Maggie." He patted Mike's arm. "Goodnight, Mike," he said warmly, and started to leave.

"Daniel," Mike said quickly, reaching out to snag his hand, "I haven't thanked you yet…" He paused, as if searching for the right words. "I want to thank you for, well, for letting Maggie know about this and, ah, well, for, well, just for everything …"

Dan started to chuckle. "It's okay, Mike, I understand. And you're welcome. Believe me, it was the very least I could've done. I mean, I didn't… you know…" It was his turn to grope for words, and Mike knew exactly what he was trying to say. He squeezed the younger man's hand.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Mike said gently, letting them both off the hook. With an affectionate smile, Dan nodded and headed for the door.

# # # # #

Maggie approached the passenger side of the blue sedan. "It's unlocked," he said from behind her and she opened the door and slid inside. She reached for the inside handle to pull the door shut but he blocked the door. "You can't think I'm gonna let you just sit in the passenger seat, do ya? I mean, in a city like 'Frisco with all these red lights and stop signs. You just hopping out whenever you want to?" He chuckled dryly. "Here," he tossed a car key onto her lap, "move over, you're gonna drive."

She did as she was told, as awkward as it was to do gracefully, and settled behind the wheel. She reached under the left side of the seat.

"What are you doing?" he asked quickly, noticing the move.

She looked at him with barely concealed contempt. "I have to move the seat back. I'm taller than you." Under any other circumstance, that would have made her laugh. Now she just hoped she didn't make him mad.

She could see his glare in the dim streetlamp spill, then he smiled slightly. It sent a chill up her spine. "You're a gutsy broad, Maggie Jarris," he said with a slight trace of admiration in his voice, "I'll give ya that."

He was leaning back to reach for the passenger side door handle when he felt the lightest touch of smooth cold metal just behind his right ear. He froze. A deep authoritative voice ordered, "Put the gun on the seat and put both hands on top of your head, and if you so much as flinch, Mrs. Jarris will be wiping your brains off of her face."

# # # # #

Jeannie turned the car onto De Haro and started down the street towards her house. At the end of the block, she could see a group of people gathered around a car. Her headlights picked up the sight of the driver's door being opened and a woman getting out in a panic, falling into a man's arms.

"Maggie? Steve?"

She slammed the car to a stop in the middle of the street.

# # # # #

Maggie heard the door beside her open and a familiar voice speaking urgently into her ear. "Maggie, get out of the car, please. Now." It was not a request; it was a demand.

Still looking across the seat, she scrambled to get out, turned and half collapsed into Steve's arm. "I've got you," he said as he steadied her. She grabbed him, and managed to get her feet under her and caught her balance. "Are you okay?" he asked anxiously.

"Oh my god, oh my god," she said quickly, looking down, then she looked up into his eyes and smiled. "We got him, Steve, we really got him."

He grinned at her. " _You_ got him, Maggie. You were great." Steve looked over the roof of the car. "Barry?"

FBI Agent Barry Parker stood up, looking over the car. "All's well over here, Steve," he grinned, standing over his now handcuffed prisoner, kneeling painfully on the concrete of the sidewalk.

"Maggie?! Steve?!" They both turned at the sound of Jeannie's distraught voice. "Oh my god, what's going on? Are you all right?" As she ran down the street towards them, two large dark sedans came around the corner and squealed to a stop, four dark-suited men getting out. They joined Parker on the sidewalk.

Maggie glanced guiltily at Steve then turned back to Jeannie. "We're fine, honey, don't worry. It was a…um…well, sort of a 'sting' operation." She finished with an almost apologetic half-smile, which was somewhat matched by Steve.

Jeannie paused for a second. "What?" she demanded, looking from one to the other.

"Look, Jeannie, let's not talk about this here. Let's go back to your house and Maggie and I'll tell you everything that's happened tonight, I promise."

"A sting?" Jeannie asked slowly and Steve knew, from long experience, that the famous Stone temper was on the rise. He quickly looked back over the top of the car. "Barry, is it okay if I take the ladies back to the house?"

"Sure," Parker answered, "as soon as we get this joker squared away, I'll be up there to talk to you both."

Gesturing back towards the house, Steve said gallantly, "Ladies…" Jeannie turned somewhat reluctantly and Maggie shot an appreciative glance, punctuated with a quick smile, in his direction as they started up the block. "Um, Jeannie, you might want to get Mike's car out of the middle of the street. I don't think he'd appreciate it sitting there with the engine running and the door open…" he said casually, trying not to chuckle.

She was just starting to turn to him with a biting retort when Parker's voice overrode them all. "What the hell?!" Everyone looked in his direction. He turned to Steve, his eyes wide, his arms out, dumbfounded.

Another agent, who was holding the hitman's gun, handed it to Parker, its cylinder open. Parker raised the .38 towards Steve and spun the cylinder. "It's empty!"


	24. Chapter 24

"So this was all a set-up?" Jeannie asked anxiously as Steve closed the door and the three moved further into the living room. Maggie picked her purse up from the floor near the door and crossed unsteadily to the sofa.

"Sort of," Steve said distractedly, his eyes on the obviously still rattled older woman. He moved to stand over her as she sat. "Maggie, can I make you a cup of coffee or tea or something…?" he asked.

She looked up at him with a grateful smile. "I could use a drink."

He turned to Jeannie, who was watching them both from the across the room. "We have some wine. Would that do? Mike doesn't drink anything stronger than beer or wine." She shrugged almost apologetically.

"I know, sweetie," Maggie smiled, "wine will be fine."

"I'll get it," Steve said, crossing to the kitchen as Jeannie moved closer to the couch. She sat next to Maggie and took her hand.

Maggie looked up a little guiltily. "I am so sorry, Jeannie, but we couldn't tell you. We had to be sure that nothing went wrong and the fewer people who knew what was going on, the better."

Jeannie nodded in understanding. "So, is he one of the guys that were following us the other day?"

"No, those guys I didn't know." Steve approached Maggie with the glass of wine. "Oh, thanks, honey," she smiled gratefully as she took the glass and he sat on the nearby armchair. She took a sip before continuing. "But this guy, I know him. His name is Frank Barzoli, and he's one of my late husbands…'acquaintances', I guess you could call him." She paused then on Jeannie's quizzical look, explained. "Frank's a Jersey hitman."

Jeannie gasped. "And he came here to kill you?"

"Well, that's what we thought," she said, looking at Steve.

"When Maggie told me about the men who seemed to be following you at the café the other day, I called one of the guys I know at the FBI. I still have a lot of contacts there, and I've had some of them in to do guest lectures the past couple of years. Hey," he said with a chuckle, "your Dad isn't the only one with connections, you know?"

Jeannie smirked at him.

"Anyway," he continued, "they told me they'd seen some activity going on with regards to a Jersey hitman coming to San Francisco, and when I told them about Maggie coming here to be with Mike, well, let's just say the two and two added up. The Bureau has been on Barzoli's trail since my phone call, essentially."

"So, the next thing we needed to do was 'set him up', so to speak," Maggie took over the story. "And we wanted to make sure you and your father were going to be nowhere near when it happened. We were pretty sure he wouldn't try anything at the hospital or when I was with you, so we had to figure out some way to get me alone."

"And that's where the recliner comes into play?"

Steve and Maggie shared a quick look. "See, I told you she was her father's daughter," he said with a laugh.

Shaking her head in admiration, Maggie said, "You're absolutely right. I mean, I wanted to do that anyway, but it just seemed absolutely perfect that I could monopolize what little free time we had this afternoon shopping for the chair, making it imperative that I be left alone at the house to wait for the delivery while you went to pick up the roast."

"Yeah, you see, we knew he would have found out that Mike was going to be released tomorrow, so the chances of Maggie being alone anytime soon were quickly disappearing. He had to move tonight or it would have just been too dangerous to wait and do it with you and Mike at home here as well."

"Wow, so everything went like clockwork, didn't it?" Jeannie asked with admiration colouring her voice.

Both Maggie and Steve frowned. "Well, almost, I guess," Maggie said slowly, turning to Steve, "but I have no idea why his gun was unloaded, do you?"

Steve shook his head, equally baffled. "I honestly have no clue, it just doesn't make any sense. Hopefully Barry will have some answers when he joins us."

"Well, I'm just glad it ended like it did," Jeannie said, getting to her feet. "I have a feeling it's going to be a long night. I'll put on a pot of coffee."

"Good idea," Steve agreed. Jeannie had just disappeared into the kitchen when there was a knock on the door. Steve opened it to find a frustrated Barry Parker standing on the stoop. The agent pushed past him into the room.

"Maggie, you're sure you're okay?" he asked as he crossed to the sofa and sat beside her.

Nodding reassuringly, she put the wineglass on the coffee table. "I'm fine, Barry, thanks. You guys sure did that like clockwork. He had no idea."

Parker flashed a smile. "Yeah, that part went great, but…" He paused, as if unsure how to continue.

"What's going on, Barry?" Steve asked, once more settling into the armchair. "Did he tell you why the gun wasn't loaded."

Parker looked at him chagrined. "Barzoli's not telling us anything. He says he'll only talk to Maggie." He looked at her sympathetically. "Look, Maggie, you don't have to do this…"

She looked at Steve then back to the agent. "What do you need?"

"Well, we're taking him downtown to our Field Office. If he doesn't say anything, we can possibly get him for kidnapping and threatening, but with an unloaded gun, that might be a stretch. But we all know there's more behind this than just a threat, and I don't know about you two, but I want to know _why_ he came all this way just to go after you with an unloaded gun. Right now, it doesn't make any sense."

He paused, then looked her square in the eye. "Like I said, you don't have to do this, Maggie, but –"

"I'll go," she said firmly, cutting him off. Then she smiled warmly and put her hand over his. "I want to know why he did this too. And if he'll only talk to me, then so be it." As she stood up, the two men looked at each other, pleased and impressed. "Well, don't just sit there, let's go."

"I'll tell Jeannie to stop making the coffee," Steve said with a chuckle as he got to his feet.

# # # # #

"So what do you want me to say?" Maggie asked as she, Steve and Parker stood outside the interview room door. She took a deep unsteady breath, and Steve laid a comforting hand on her arm.

"Just go with your gut, Maggie. Like you said, you know this guy. If he tells you why he did what he did, great. If not, well, just don't go giving away anything you think he wants to hear. Jeez, why I am telling you all this? You probably have more experience dealing with these 'made guys' than Steve and I put together, am I right?"

Parker was relieved to see Maggie chuckle and relax, and Steve smiled and squeezed her arm in support. She looked into his green eyes and bit her lip. "For Mike, right?" she said quietly.

His smile wavering, he nodded. "For Mike."

She nodded back, turned to the door, took a deep breath, turned the knob and entered the room.

Frank Barzoli, wearing a dark blue sportscoat over an open-necked light blue shirt, his right hand cuffed to a table leg, sat on the far side of a small metal table. "Hello, Maggie," he said pleasantly as she closed the door behind her.

She smiled slightly. "Hello, Frank." She moved slowly to the nearest chair, sat and deliberately put her purse on the table in full view. His eyes snapped quickly to the purse then back to her and his smile grew ever so slightly. "I never expected to see you in San Francisco."

His smile disappeared but his tone remained pleasant. "You know why I was sent here, Maggie, you're not that dumb. What were you thinking?"

She hesitated, so he continued. "I know what you were thinking – you weren't. Maybe you knew what you were doing, maybe you didn't. I don't care. But you have had to know that the boys back East care – they care a great deal."

When she still didn't respond, he sighed. "Maggie, it's not you they're after. They don't give a damn about you. It's what you represent. It's the fact that you turned state's evidence against them. If you had just remained Ben's widow, and gone on with your life, you'd've been in the clear. But you couldn't keep your mouth shut, could you?"

"That explains why you're here, Frank, it doesn't explain why you brought an empty gun."

He glanced down at the table and sighed loudly. "You never got it, did you, Maggie? All those years." He looked up. "I've been doing my job for a long time and I'm good at it, but I can't do it anymore. I'm tired and I'm finished. But you can't just walk away from a job like mine, can you? The only way I can get out is if they put a bullet in my head."

She stared at him, almost knowing where he was going to go. She waited.

"So," he continued, sighing again, "when I was ordered out here, to 'look after' you, I thought, this is my chance." He leaned across the table towards her. "Maggie, I don't want to kill you, I've never wanted to kill you, and I would never kill you. In this rat's ass of a life that I've lived, you're one of the few good things. I've always liked and admired you, just like I liked and admired Ben. Good people caught up in a bad situation."

Her brow began to furrow. "Frank –"

"No, let me finish," he cut her off. "I'm done with this life. Tonight was my swan song. I'm gonna become the new Joe Valachi," he said with a small laugh.

"So…you wanted to be caught?"

He smiled almost audaciously. "I'm not as sloppy as I seemed to be tonight, you gotta know that, right? I'm the best. I mean, how many hitmen make it to 54 and never get caught, right?"

She smiled back. "It did seem a little too easy."

His smile disappeared and he stared straight into her eyes. "Maggie, listen to me, honey. Just because _I'm_ walking away from this contract, it doesn't mean you are in the clear. Far from it. One way or another, they are gonna know I didn't fulfill my end of the agreement, they're gonna know you're still alive. And they are gonna come for you.

"You don't deserve this kind of a life, I know. You don't need to keep running and hiding, but it's what you've got to do. They won't stop." He could see her start to breathe heavily and her eyes become moist; he reached across the table with his uncuffed left hand, and she took it and squeezed. "Maggie, believe me when I say, I want you to have a good life. So do me a favour, will ya? If you really love him, marry your cop, you deserve that happiness, but then you both have to get out of town and live somewhere else under an assumed name. You've done it before and you have to do it again. Please, for your sake and for my sake, listen to me on this.

"You have to get out of this city as soon as you can."


	25. Chapter 25

Jeannie put the cup of coffee on the table in front of Maggie and sat back down on the other end of the sofa. Steve glanced at her with a brief, grateful smile then his eyes slid back to the older woman, whose own gaze hadn't strayed from her study of the hem on her sleeve, it seemed. The silence in the room was taking on a life of its own.

Deciding to try a different tack, Steve reached down the side of the chair he was in and lifted the lever, elevating the footrest. "This is really nice," he said with a smile, squirming into a more comfortable position. "Mike's gonna love this."

At the mention of her fiancee's name, Maggie head came up, scowling. But when she met Steve's eyes, her own softened as she realized what he was doing. "I'm sorry, I know we're supposed to be talking about this, but I just… I just can't," she said sadly, shaking her head.

Jeannie had glanced at the clock in the kitchen when she was in there, and she knew the sun would be coming up soon. Nobody had gotten, or would get, any sleep that night, she realized, and she also knew a decision had to be made before the three of them made their way to the hospital later that morning. A decision that was Maggie's and Maggie's alone.

Steve slowly lowered the chair. He leaned forward, put his elbows on his knees and rested his chin on his folded hands. After several seconds, he began slowly, "You need some time to yourself, Maggie, but before you do, I just want to say something, and you can take it for what it's worth…" He paused, and when he began again, he was looking down. "Mike has been the most important person in my life for a very long time and I can't imagine my life without him in it in some way. But that also means that his life, his happiness and his future, are all incredibly important to me as well.

"What he's facing, a long recovery and especially the loss of his career, though he's not showing it right now, it's going to tear him apart. The one light in his life at the moment is you." He looked up and met her eyes evenly. "I know he adores you and how much he wants to marry you. You're his lifeline right now." She whimpered and brought a hand up to cover her mouth.

"Maggie, if you're honest with him about all this, he will understand. He is one of the most altruistic people I have ever met. He'll go along with whatever you decide, whatever he thinks is best for you." He leaned forward and took one of her hands in his. "But whatever the two of you decide, I know it will be what's best for you both. And if that means you'll be together in another part of the country, I can live with that. I'll miss the hell out of him, but at least I'll know he's alive and he's happy and he's with the woman he loves." He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it.

Biting her bottom lip and fighting back tears, Maggie tried smiling at him, only partially succeeding. Curled up at the other end of the sofa, Jeannie was wiping tears from her cheeks. They looked at her when she sniffled.

She smiled encouragingly through her tears. "He's my dad, and I love him with all my heart, but he deserves his own life and his own happiness. And I don't think he could find anyone that deserves him more than you do, Maggie, I truly don't. He comes to life when you're around, like he used to do with my mom… Whatever you decide, you have my blessing as well." She crawled across the couch and slid her arm around Maggie's shoulders, pulling her close.

Maggie leaned her head against Jeannie's as Steve continued to hold her hand. They sat like that for several long minutes before Maggie could speak. "Thank you," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "I never meant to do this to him, you have to know that…"

Steve squeezed her hand. "This isn't your fault, or his. But it's our new reality, and we might as well come to grips with it as best we all can." He glanced up at Jeannie and took a deep breath, looking at them both with resigned concern. "Listen, ah, we only have a couple of hours until we have to go to the hospital, so why don't we try to get some rest. Come on, ladies, I'll escort you both upstairs."

As Maggie began to stand, she looked back at the sofa. "You're gonna sleep on –"

Steve cut her off with a sharp snort. "You would not believe how many nights I've spent on this couch," he said with a laugh. "It was like my second home."

Outside Mike's bedroom door, Maggie turned to Steve, her brow furrowed and tears beading on her eyelashes. "How could I have allowed this to happen, Steve? How could I have been so stupid?" He knew she didn't require an answer. "I've got myself a horrible little Hobson's Choice now, haven't I?" she said quietly. "If I stay, I could get him killed; and if I leave, I could kill him."

# # # # #

Steve pulled aside the edge of living room curtain and looked down onto the dark street. A black sedan sat in front of the house. He smiled grimly as he let the curtain fall back and he crossed to the sofa, two pillows and a blanket in his hands.

He made the bed then lay down and turned off the lamp. He stared at the ceiling in the blackness, knowing sleep wouldn't come but grateful for the chance to marshal his own thoughts.

He had to admit he was very worried about Mike, about what was facing him in a couple of hours. He knew his former partner was still in precarious health, even though he was being sent home, and Maggie's words had disturbed him more than he cared to admit. Was Mike strong enough, physically and emotionally, to be able to let her leave, knowing that her life was in the balance? Or would he let her go, then descend into a tailspin from which he couldn't recover?

He closed his eyes and tried to empty his mind. When that didn't work, he settled for lying very still and allowing the warm tears to trickle from the corners of his eyes undisturbed.

# # # # #

With three of large paper bags in hand, Steve, Jeannie and Maggie exited the elevator on the fourth floor and started down the corridor, an FBI agent following discreetly behind.

"So remember what we agreed, all right? This has got to be between Maggie and Mike." Steve glanced at Jeannie and she nodded. "And we let Mike call the shots. If he wants to be alone with Maggie, so be it. We have to respect his wishes in all this, no matter how we feel about it, right?"

Jeannie nodded again and Maggie looked at them both with gratitude. She took a deep breath. "He's gonna know as soon as I walk in there," she said anxiously. "I'm a lousy actress when it comes to things like this. He's gonna know."

Steve nodded. "He doesn't miss much. He'll catch on pretty quick, I'm sure. And if that happens, then we don't try to underplay it – we tell him. Agreed?"

The two women nodded as they stopped before the door and the older woman took a deep shuddering breath. She closed her eyes, took another deep breath, then opened her eyes wide and broke into a broad smile. She pushed the door open.

Mike, in his blue pajamas and burgundy robe, was sitting in the armchair and he grinned lovingly when the door opened. "There's my girl. I was wondering when you were gonna get here," he said happily as Maggie led the way into the room.

She crossed to him and bent to give him a kiss, then put the paper bag she was holding on the bed. She leaned over him again, put both hands on the sides of his face, and gave him another kiss.

"I'm liking this morning already," Mike said with a chuckle as she stepped back to the bed and opened the paper bag.

Grinning and laughing, Jeannie bent over her father and gave him a peck on the cheek as she put her bag on the overbed table. Steve went straight to the sidetable to put his bag down. "How are you feeling this morning? You look great."

"I feel pretty good," Mike said with a smile as he watched Maggie take the coffees out of the paper bag on the bed. "It sure will be good to be back in my own house."

He caught the stricken look that briefly flashed across Maggie's face as she turned to him with a cardboard cup of coffee in her hand. He took it, his smile wavering, worry suddenly furrowing his brow. "What's wrong?" he asked quietly.

She smiled at him. "Why do you ask?" she said evasively, and peripherally he could see both Steve and his daughter freeze for a split second.

Mike sat back slightly, his eyes snapping from one to the other. "Okay," he began quietly, "one of you is going to tell me what's going on."

Maggie's gaze shot guiltily to Steve. She straightened up, looked at Mike sadly, then reached out to pull a chair up beside the armchair. She sat as close as she could, took the coffee cup from him and put it on the floor, then took both his hands in hers and leaned towards him.

"Something's happened, Michael," she began softly, staring into his worried blue eyes, "and you and I have to make a decision in the next few hours that is going to affect the rest of our lives. It literally is a matter of life and death."


	26. Chapter 26

Holding Mike's hands and looking into his eyes, Maggie began to lay out the events of the past few days, beginning with the spotting of the camel sportscoat-wearing man who had followed she and Jeannie to the café. He let her talk, never taking his eyes from her, the only anxiety shown by gripping her hands even tighten when she told him about the set-up at his house.

As Jeannie and Steve sat, watched and listened, Maggie assured him that she was never in any danger, that she, Steve and the FBI had had everything under control, and that, under the circumstances, it was the only thing they could do. And though his eyes did get a little brighter and he blinked a little faster, he let her talk.

When she had finished bringing him up to date, she took a deep faltering breath, glanced down briefly, kissed the back of his hand, then looked up once more into his troubled blue eyes. "Mike, I made a mistake. I knew that coming here I was jeopardizing my cover, but being with you was just so much more important to me. I didn't care about myself or what could possibly happen…

"I didn't think about you, or Jeannie, or Steve, or Dan…about all the other lives I would be putting in danger. All the other lives that would suddenly be at risk because I didn't think. I just knew I had to be with you…"

She leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. "I will never regret that decision," she said with a sad smile. "But now we have to made another one, my love."

Mike's breaths had begun to get a little deeper, and he raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her hand. He turned his head slightly in Steve's direction. "Steve, could you help me to the bed?" he asked quietly, and the younger man shot to his feet, crossing to the armchair.

"Are you okay?" he asked anxiously.

Mike released Maggie's hands, putting his own on the chair arms and beginning to push himself up as Steve took his elbow. "I want to hold my girl and I can't do it from the chair," he said softly.

As Maggie and Jeannie watched anxiously, Steve helped Mike to the bed, and the older man lay back against the raised bed head, doing his best not to show any discomfort. Settled, he smiled encouragingly at Maggie, and she got up and crossed to the bed. Slipping off her shoes, she sat on the edge.

Eyes almost closed, Mike lifted his left arm so it was shoulder high, trying to keep the almost crippling pain from registering on his face. Maggie lay beside him and leaned in to him, as he wrapped his arm around her and held her close. Careful not to hurt him any further, she buried her face against his chest and, closing her eyes, let the tears flow.

Steve, who had stepped back from the bed, turned slightly towards Jeannie and she instantly caught the look. Rising quietly to her feet, she crossed to the door where he joined her and, unnoticed, they left the room.

As the door closed softly behind them, Steve leaned against it, his head back, and closed his eyes. He reached out blindly and pulled Jeannie towards him, folded her into his arms, and bent forward to kiss the top of her head. They stood in each other's embrace for a long time, breathing deeply, trying to get their paralyzing sadness under control.

# # # # #

Neither of them knew how long they lay in each other's arms. She listened to the steady, comforting beating of his heart, felt the encouraging strength in his embrace. He was conscious of the soothing rhythm of her breathing, the warmth of her contact, her tears against his chest.

Eventually, taking a deep breath, he kissed the top of her head. "I want you to go," he said quietly, and he felt her stiffen. Then she sobbed and he could feel her shake as she began to cry, her grasp on his pajama top tightening, burying her head even deeper into his chest. His grip on her tightened and he closed his eyes, tears sliding down his cheeks.

# # # # #

Dan walked to the entrance to the sunroom, looking around. Amongst the patients and their visitors, it was easy to spot those he sought. Steve and Jeannie were sitting on a sofa at the far side of the room, she curled up in one corner, he sitting forward with his arms on his knees, his head down.

When Dan got closer, they both looked up. Jeannie's eyes were red-rimmed and there was a crumpled handkerchief in one hand. Neither smiled. Silently, Dan sat beside Steve and took a deep breath. "How are they doing?" he asked quietly.

Jeannie looked away. Steve shrugged and shook his head. He cleared his throat. "Everything ready?"

Dan nodded. "Yeah."

"How long?"

Dan glanced at his watch. "We still have about an hour. I picked John up at the airport; he's ironing out a few details but he should be here soon."

Steve nodded, his eyes returning to the floor, and silence once more settled over them.

# # # # #

There was a discreet knock on the door, then it opened slowly. Steve entered the room and crossed quietly to the bed. They were as he had left them, in each other's arms, and his heart constricted in compassion.

Mike opened his eyes and, reluctantly, Steve nodded slightly. The older man squeezed his eyes tightly shut, took a deep breath and, trying to suppress a grimace, moved his left arm, letting it drop onto the bed. Maggie opened her eyes and reached up to touch his face. Not looking at Steve, she began to sit up, and he moved closer.

She sat on the side of the bed and looked at the younger man. "It's time," he said softly, and she nodded. He took her hand as she slid off the bed. Putting on her shoes, she looked at him pointedly and he turned and moved towards the door.

Tears coursing down her cheeks, she turned back to Mike, whose eyes had never left her. She leaned over the bed and, despite the pain, he raised both arms and took her into an embrace. Her mouth near his ear, she said softly, "I love you." She felt his arms tighten.

"I love you too," he whispered back, then she kissed him, deep and passionately. She stood up, gently brushing back the hair on his forehead and staring into his eyes, then she turned quickly and strode to the door. Brushing past Steve, she grabbed the handle and, without a backward glance, opened the door and left the room.

Steve caught the door as it began to close but, suddenly finding himself unable to look towards the bed as well, he stepped through the entrance and let the door shut behind him.

Maggie turned to him in the hallway, her face stricken, and she collapsed into his arms, trying not to sob. Feeling utterly helpless, he held her while she pulled herself together. Eventually she stepped back, looking down. "I'm sorry," she said raggedly, rooting in her purse for a tissue.

"Don't apologize," he said softly, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. She tried to smile at him gratefully, not completely succeeding.

"Let's get this over with," she said with resignation, straightening up and squaring her shoulders.

"This way." He led them down the corridor, the FBI agent, who had been standing outside the hospital room door the entire time, falling into step behind them.

They stopped outside an office and Steve knocked once then opened the door. As Maggie stepped inside, she was gratified to see Jeannie, Dan, and FBI Special Agent Andela. Smiling in spite of herself, she approached the agent and held out her hand. "John," she said, abashed.

"Maggie," he replied with a small smile, shaking her hand, "it's, ah, good to see you again." There was no mistaking the edge in his voice, but he had always admired this strong, dynamic woman, despite the headaches she continued to cause him.

"Well, let's get this over with," she said with false bravado, her eyes flicking around the room at the sullen faces. She approached Dan first and took him in a light embrace. "Well, Dan, here we go again."

"Take care of yourself, Maggie," he said as they pulled apart, and she reached up to lightly touch his cheek.

She wrapped Jeannie in a ferocious bear hug, almost crushing the younger woman, and Jeannie squeezed back with all her might. She couldn't believe how close they had become in such a short time and she was devastated that this amazing woman was leaving her life. Pulling away reluctantly, Maggie put both hands on Jeannie's face and looked deeply into her eyes. "Look after your father for me, will you?" And Jeannie nodded, her eyes filling with tears.

"Steven," Maggie said sweetly as she stepped in front of the handsome young man Mike loved so much. She bit her lip, smiled sadly then pulled him into her arms. Into his ear she whispered, "Be there for him. He needs you now more than ever." She felt him nod and, giving him a final squeeze, she stepped back and turned to Agent Andela. "John…shall we?"

With a departing nod to everyone in the room, Andela led the way to the door and, once more without a backward glance, he and Maggie left the room. No one moved as the door closed silently behind them.

# # # # #

Steve pushed the heavy wooden door open and entered the quiet room. As if he hadn't moved since Maggie's departure, Mike lay with his eyes closed, looking defeated, frail and lonely.

Crossing quietly to the bed, Steve pulled the armchair closer and sat. He reached out and took Mike's hand and squeezed. He smiled warmly when the squeeze was returned.


	27. Chapter 27

Dan swung the tan LTD close to the curb, pleased to get a spot right in front of the house. As he shifted into park, Steve and Jeannie opened the back doors, then she opened the front passenger side door as Steve jogged around the car.

"Okay, Daddy, just take it easy," she said as Mike turned slowly and carefully on the front seat, putting both feet on the curb. Wearing khakis, a checked shirt under his Giants jacket, a baseball cap and sneakers, he leaned forward and allowed Steve to take his right elbow and help him stand. As Dan joined them on the sidewalk, Mike looked up at the house, but instead of the anticipatory smile his face showed no emotion. Steve glanced at Jeannie, who was watching her father with a furrowed brow.

"Okay," Steve said encouragingly, "Jeannie, you go on ahead and open the door, and Dan and I'll help Mike up the stairs."

"I don't need any help," Mike said, but there was no anger in his voice, "I just need to take it slow."

"Sure, sure," Steve said, nodding. He noticed Dan look away, trying to hide his worried sigh.

Jeannie grabbed the overnight bag from the back seat and jogged up the stairs. Mike approached the first step and started up slowly, Steve close behind, and Dan bringing up the rear.

Jeannie opened the front door and stepped inside quickly to put the bag on the staircase. She glanced around the living room to make sure everything was still neat and orderly, her eyes falling on the recliner. She gasped, turning quickly back to the front door. Standing on the stoop, watching her father's slow progress up the steps, she tried to get Steve's attention but he was too busy making sure Mike was doing okay.

Her father was slightly out of breath when he joined his daughter on the stoop, but he managed to smile at her slightly as he stepped over the threshold, Steve right behind him. As they passed, Jeannie grabbed at Steve's arm to get his attention, and she leaned towards him. " _You_ bought the recliner," she whispered quickly and he looked at her in confusion.

"What?" he whispered back.

" _You_ bought the recliner," she whispered again, then turned to follow Mike into the house. "Let me take your coat, Mike," she said lightly as she moved behind him, helping him slip off the jacket.

Steve and Dan had moved further into the living room, Steve having finally figured out what Jeannie had been getting at.

His jacket off, Mike stood where he was, staring at nothing, his mind seemingly a million miles away. "Ah, why don't you take a seat, Daddy, and I'll get you something to drink," Jeannie suggested encouragingly.

Mike looked at her slowly with a slight smile. "No thanks, sweetheart, I think I'm just gonna go up to my room and lay down." He looked at Steve and Dan. "Thanks, ah, for driving us home. I'll see you later," he said quietly, almost distractedly, as he turned towards the staircase and started up.

They watched his slow progress until they heard the bedroom door close, then turned to each other, all three at a loss for words. Jeannie crossed to the closet with Mike's jacket, but after hanging it up, she stood with her back to the room and they saw her head drop and her shoulders begin to shake.

Within seconds, Steve was behind her, grabbing her arms and turning her around into a hug. He rocked her for several seconds then she pulled back and looked up at him. "I'm okay," she said with an embarrassed chuckle, "I'm okay. I'm just so worried about him. He's barely said two words since Maggie left yesterday and he's just so sad…"

"I know, I know," Steve said quietly, leading her back towards the sofa, "but there's really not much any of us can do about it. He's been dealt a pretty shitty hand lately, that's for sure."

Dan dropped onto the couch with a weary sigh. "I can't begin to imagine what he's going through right now. It's just seems so unfair. I mean, he's always been such an optimist, at least in my experience, but this… this is just… well, there's just no silver lining anywhere here, as far as I can see."

Steve sat on the other end of the couch, eyeing the recliner as he did so. For reasons he couldn't put his finger on right at the moment, it seemed prudent to leave that chair vacant. The move and the look were not lost on Jeannie.

"Can I get you guys something to drink?" she asked. "Tea, coffee, juice?"

Dan smiled appreciatively. "Thanks, but no, I've got to get to the office. Norm and I are working on a case we picked up yesterday, a sailor on leave; we think he was killed by his trick." He stood to go.

Steve snickered dryly. "Those are the cases I don't miss anymore, to be perfectly honest. Hey, ah, anything on the grapevine about what the brass are saying about Mike?"

Dan, who was on his way to the door, stopped and turned back, looking slightly guilty. "I, ah, I was talking to Roy the other day. He said they've been talking about it. They're not going to allow Mike back on the street, that's a done deal. They're gonna offer him a captaincy, probably in Robbery – a complete change of scene, I guess. But I think they're expecting him to pull the pin and take his full pension."

"And do what?" Steve asked angrily. "Sit around the house?" Both Dan and Jeannie looked at him in alarm and he suddenly realized how he sounded. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to yell at you. It's just –"

"It's okay," Dan said quickly, with a wry smile, "I understand. I feel the same way." He looked at Jeannie. "Listen, I'll drop by sometime tonight, see how's he doing, okay?"

"I'm cooking a pot roast; why don't you stop by for dinner, around six? Bring Norm if he wants to come." She glanced at Steve. "I think we could use the company by then. It might be a very long day."

"Thanks, that sounds great. You will have lots of veggies, right?" he asked with a grin and she nodded. As he opened the door, he looked back, "By the way, nice recliner. Great addition to the living room. Mike'll love it."

Jeannie looked at the chair lovingly, biting her lip before saying, "Actually, Maggie got it for him. I'm trying to figure out a good time to tell him, so for now, Steve bought it, okay?"

Dan shook his head in wonder. "Wow, for a woman who was in our lives for less than two weeks, she's certainly left one hell of an impact, hasn't she?"

# # # # #

Steve knocked lightly on the door and listened for a response. Hearing nothing, he took a deep breath and opened the door. In the darkened room, the curtains closed and the lights out, Mike lay on top of the bed, staring at the ceiling. He didn't move as Steve crossed the room and stood over him.

"You okay?" Steve asked softly, and after several seconds, Mike nodded. "Good. You, ah…you want to talk?"

Mike blinked quickly several times and swallowed hard, but eventually he shook his head and closed his eyes.

Steve stood silently for several long seconds, then reached out and laid his hand gently on Mike's forehead. With a heavy heart, he turned and walked back to the door.

# # # # #

Slipping of a rubber glove, Jeannie turned the volume down on the large transistor radio on the counter, crossed the kitchen and took the receiver off the wall phone. "Hello."

"How's he doing today?" Steve's concerned voice came over the line. She could tell from the background ambience he was in his office at Berkeley.

She sighed. "Same old, same old. He came down for breakfast but he's back in his room again."

"Okay. Well, I've got some things I have to do here. I should be there around six. Want me to pick up some pizza for tonight?"

Jeannie chuckled sadly. "Sure, why not? Give him a break from my cooking. I'll see if Dan can join us, okay?"

"Sounds good. I'll make sure one of the pizzas is vegetarian," he said with a chuckle. "Hang in there, kiddo. I'll see you later."

She heard the line go dead and put the receiver back on the hook. Crossing slowly to the sink, she turned the volume up on the radio and put the rubber glove on again. Sighing heavily, she plunged her hands into the sink and went to work once more on the heavy cast iron dutch oven.

She tried to pay closer attention to the music but, try as she might, she couldn't deflect her thoughts from her father. Since he had returned home over a week ago, his presence had been no more than a spectre around the house, choosing to spend the vast majority of his time in his room with the door closed. He would join her for meals and he even went out for short walks, trying so hard to be the Mike she wanted him to be, but not quite succeeding.

Steve had been a regular presence at the house but even he couldn't get through to his old friend. And that worried everybody. The Mike Stone they all knew and loved was disappearing before their eyes and there seemed to be nothing they could do about it.

Feeling the ever-present tears threatening again, she took a deep breath and scrubbed the pot even harder. The DJ on the radio introduced another song and she smiled. It was an old one, she knew, but one she liked immensely and she hadn't heard it in a long time. The opening chords filled her with warmth but as she began to sing along she suddenly froze and tears sprang to her eyes.

Tearing off the rubber gloves, she turned and slid to the floor, her back against the cupboards. She covered her face with her hands and wept.

# # # # #

With two large pizzas boxes balanced on his left hand, Steve had just gotten to the stoop and was reaching for the handle when the heavy wooden door was flung open and a highly animated Jeannie reached for his hand and pulled him into the house. He almost tripped on the threshold, juggling the pizzas boxes. "Hey, hey, easy, easy, what's your rush," he chuckled, grabbing the boxes with both hands. He looked up, into a face that was flush with joy and anticipation. "What's going on?"

Jeannie started towards the kitchen, nodding at the boxes. "Bring those in here, I want to talk to you about something," she said quickly.

"Okay," he said warily as he followed her into the kitchen and put the boxes on the counter. "What's going on?" he said again.

She sat at the table and gestured for him to do the same. She leaned forward and took his hand, looking deeply into his eyes. "Steve, we've have been so wrong about Mike."

"What do you mean?"

"We both want him to be happy, don't we?" He nodded, still unsure what she was getting at. "And we also want him to be safe. And right now, he can be one or the other but he can't be both. And all we're doing is being unfair to him."

"So what do you think we should do?" he asked slowly.

Jeannie bit her lip and he saw her tear up a little, but she smiled and squeezed his hand. "We have to let him go."


	28. Chapter 28

Steve stared at her open, joy-filled face, his own brow furrowed. "You _do_ know what that means, don't you?" he asked slowly and carefully and watched as she nodded, her expression never wavering.

"I know exactly what it means, Steve. I've been thinking about this all afternoon. I've gone over it and over it and… it's the right thing to do."

With a tight, wry smile, he gripped her hands harder. "It means we may never see him again…right?"

Tears brightening her eyes, she continued to smile, and nodded even more vigorously. "I know, I know. And that part of it breaks my heart but, Steve… what makes my life more important than his?"

"What do you mean?"

She sat back slightly and looked away, thought about what she was going to say, then leaned forward again. "Why are humans the only sentient beings on the planet who seem to think that whoever parented them, whoever was biologically responsible for bringing them into the world, are therefore responsible for them for the _rest_ of their lives?" She chuckled and shook her head. "Sorry, I sound like a textbook here –"

"No, it's okay," he said quickly, flashing a grin, "I understood what you said. I went to Berkeley, you know. As a matter of fact, I'm still there," he chuckled and she joined in, grateful for his understanding.

She smiled. "What I'm trying to say is –"

"No, I get what you're trying to say, and I think you're absolutely right. A person's life doesn't end when they have a child, and yet we're programmed to think that from then on, their life is all about the kid."

"Exactly. Of course I want my Dad to be around so I can see him and talk to him when I want but, chances are, I'm not going to be living here when I finally get my Ph.D. and land a position somewhere; you're at Berkeley. His life as a cop is over. And he's expected to just stay here so we can see him when _we_ want… That's ludicrous, and it's just not fair. He deserves the life he wants, the life he deserves." She began to tear up and he squeezed her hands even tighter.

His smile was now laced with admiration and he shook his head in wonder. "You're a pretty amazing woman, Jeannie Stone, you know that?"

She chuckled, embarrassed. "I'm just the product of good parenting," she said with self-deprecating smile.

"Well, just so you know, I couldn't agree with you more. I know you, you've thought this through, haven't you?"

"Well, not all the way yet, but I've got an idea. I want to run it past you and Dan before I take it to Mike. Do you mind?"

"Mind? You have to ask?" He laughed affectionately. "Jeannie -"

A sharp rap on the front door interrupted him. Jeannie glanced towards the living room. "I bet that's Dan. Perfect timing." As she got up to go to the door, she said over her shoulder, "Put the oven on at 200, will you? We have to keep the pizzas warm and I want to talk to you both before we eat."

"Yes, ma'am," Steve chuckled to himself as he stood and crossed to the oven.

A grinning Dan was standing on the stoop, a large padded envelope in his hand, when Jeannie opened the door. "Perfect timing," she said quickly and, as with Steve, quickly pulled him into the house.

"What, are you guys starving to death?" Dan asked with a laugh as she led him to the kitchen. "Steve," he said in greeting, frowning as he saw the other man putting the pizza boxes in the oven. "Aren't we having dinner….?" he asked lamely, his voice trailing off.

"Sit," Jeannie ordered, "we have to talk."

Steve turned to him with upraised eyebrows and a curt nod, then chuckled as he took his seat once more. Still confused, Dan dropped onto the second chair, putting the padded envelop on the table. "What's going on?"

"We have to talk about Mike," Jeannie explained, pulling up a third chair. At Dan's quick look of worry, she continued briskly, "He's okay. He's the same. I mean, I want to talk to you two about his future."

Dan looked at Steve, noticing the smile had disappeared. This, he now knew, was going to be a serious conversation. "Okay," he said slowly, "what's going on?"

Jeannie was just about to start when her eyes fell on the envelope, seeming to notice it for the first time. "What's that?"

Dan picked it up. "I have no idea. I found it on my desk this morning. It has Mike's name on it, but there's no other ID."

"What's in it?" Steve asked, the cop instinct kicking in.

"Well, from what I can feel, I think it's a cassette."

"A cassette?" Jeannie asked, suddenly concerned.

"Yeah, an audio cassette –"

"I know what a cassette is," Jeannie said pointedly, with a long-suffering look. "I meant, who do you think it's from?"

"Oh," Dan said with a chuckle. "Well, a part of me kinda thinks it's from Maggie."

Jeannie eyebrows shot up. "Seriously? You think so?"

Dan nodded, smiling slightly. Jeannie glanced at Steve, trying to contain her excitement. "Oh my god, Steve, if it is, this is like…a sign, right?"

Steve chuckled at her enthusiasm. "It could be," he said lightly, trying not to grin too much.

"Dan, take it up to him. He's in his room. Tell him the truth, where you got it from, and then just come back down. We'll let him tell us who it's from, okay?"

"Okay," Dan said carefully, standing and picking up the envelope.

"Oh, wait a second." Jeannie got quickly to her feet and ran into the living room, coming back with a smallish boombox. "Here," she handed it to him, "bring this with you. He doesn't have a cassette player in his room."

Chuckling even more, Dan took the boombox from her and, with a final quick bemused glance at Steve, headed towards the stairs.

Almost beside herself with anticipation, Jeannie sat back down at the table, glancing eagerly at Steve. He smiled warmly.

# # # # #

After a brief hesitation, Dan knocked lightly on the door. "Come in," he heard Mike's voice softly from the other side. Opening the door, he took a step into the room.

Mike, sitting on the bed, reading glasses on and a hardback book in his hands, looked towards the door. Seeing Dan, he sat up a little straighter, put the book down and took the glasses off. "Oh, Dan, sorry, I thought it was Jeannie," he said quickly, almost apologetically.

Smiling, Dan moved closer to the bed. "That's what I thought. Um, we're gonna have dinner in a few minutes, but I wanted to give you this." He handed Mike the envelope and put the boombox on the floor by the bed. "Uh, Jeannie thought you might need this," he gestured at the tape player as he straightened up. On Mike's frown, he shrugged with a small grin and turned towards the door.

"Ah, Dan," Mike said hesitantly and the younger man looked back. Mike held up the envelope, his face registering his confusion.

Dan shrugged. "I have no idea. It was left on my desk this morning."

"Okay," said Mike slowly, looking at the envelope once more, "ah, call me when dinner's ready," he finished distractedly.

As Dan closed the door, Mike sat up straighter. He reached for his glasses and put them on again, then turned the envelope over to read his name. His eyes widened a bit and he slumped, gasping slightly, almost certain he recognized the printing. Trying to stop his hands from trembling, he tore the top off the envelope, careful not to spill the shredded paper stuffing. Tipping it, the small cassette tape in a plastic case slid out into his hand.

He put the cassette on the bed, opened the padded envelope and looked inside. He carefully reached in and extracted a smallish blue envelope. He dropped the remains of the padded envelope into the wastepaper basket, then held the blue envelope in both hands. Tears sprang to his eyes and he took a deep breath. His name was on this as well, and he knew he was right – this was Maggie's handwriting.

He gently opened the seal flap of the blue envelope, extracted the card and opened it. With breaths getting deeper and deeper, and unnoticed tears sliding down his cheeks, he finished reading the card, his gaze shifting to the cassette tape that lay on the bed beside him.

# # # # #

Jeannie glanced at the doorway once more. "I wonder what's going on up there?" she said with a sigh.

"Okay, so, that's only about the twentieth time you've asked that," Steve said with a chuckle. "If you're so curious, why don't you go up and knock on his door."

She shot him an exasperated look as he turned to Dan and they shared a not quite subdued laugh.

"You know, he might be waiting for you to tell him it's time to eat," Dan suggested.

Jeannie froze in her pacing of the small kitchen. "Oh, you might be right, I didn't think of that." She shot out of the room and headed up the stairs, leaving the men chortling in her wake. Several seconds later, they heard her start back down the stairs, talking animatedly, and they could make out the low tones of her father as he followed her dutifully into the kitchen.

Steve noticed the change almost immediately. Mike looked relaxed, almost giddy, and he glanced at them both as he stepped into the room. "Steve! Good to see you here. I hear we have pizza tonight – is that courtesy of you?" he asked with a laugh.

Momentarily stunned, but in the most happy way, Steve got to his feet and slapped Mike's arm as he crossed to the oven and opened the door. "Well, you know, after a while Jeannie's cooking…"

"Hey," she said sharply, feigning indignation as she took the plates out of the cupboard, "watch yourself there, Mr. Freeloader. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth."

"Freeloader?" he scoffed, "I bought the pizzas!"

Chuckling at their badinage, Mike took a seat at the table beside Dan, enveloping him in a wide smile. The younger partner grinned back, suddenly knowing that in the delivery of that one small package, something in Mike's world had changed for the better. The others realized it too.

Chuckling, Steve opened the top of one of the boxes. "There's only two choices tonight, Dan," he announced with a slight tone of mischief in his voice, "with anchovies or without."

As Mike's maniacal laughter filled the room, Steve shot a delighted grin at Jeannie, who beamed back, biting her lip. Dan chortled appreciatively, accepting the plate proffered by Steve. "Without, thank you," he said with feigned dignity, enjoying the moment.

Steve handed Mike a plate with a large slice of liberally dotted anchovy pizza, then sat himself, smiling and chuckling. As Jeannie took her place, he turned to his old partner, his expression suddenly serious. "Michael, we want to talk to you about something."


	29. Chapter 29

"How are you doing?" Steve asked as he adjusted Mike's tie for the third time.

The older man exhaled loudly, looking down. "I'm terrified," he said calmly with a nervous chuckle and Steve grinned.

"It's been awhile, hasn't it?"

Mike's eyes widened and he tilted his head. "A lifetime ago."

Laughing, Steve slapped him on the arm. "I'll go and check how everything's going. Be back in a bit. Take it easy."

Nodding and trying to smile, Mike sat down on the large armchair and began drumming his fingers on the arm. He sighed loudly and looked around the room.

# # # # #

Dan was standing at the front entrance with Haseejian and Tanner, enjoying the cool March late afternoon air. It was blessedly a sunny day.

"Wow," said Tanner with conspicuous admiration, "I haven't seen security like this since…hmm…I've never seen security like this. Well, except in the movies."

Haseejian looked at him questioningly.

"The Godfather, Part Two? The meeting of the Five Families?" Tanner tried to explain. "Oh, forget it."

Both Dan and Haseejian chuckled; Tanner just looked annoyed.

"Well, somebody called in a bunch of markers, that's for sure," Haseejian commented as he looked out over the large parking lot, and the impressive number of both marked and unmarked police cars.

"It wasn't hard," Dan said softly, "Mike's made a lot of friends over the years."

"You can say that again."

"Hi, fellas," Steve said as he joined them on the wide veranda. "How's it going out here?"

Haseejian chuckled. "We've got everything under control," he gestured towards the parking lot and everyone laughed. "So, how's the boss doing?" Even though Mike's days with the police department were over, he would always be 'the boss' as far as the Armenian sergeant was concerned.

Steve chuckled to himself. "Well, if it's possible to be both extraordinarily calm and vibrate like an electric toothbrush at the same time, that's what he's doing."

As the laugher died down, Dan said quietly, "Well, I never thought we'd see this day but I am so glad we're here."

"Amen," echoed Tanner, nodding.

"Ah, speaking of which," Steve said suddenly and the others looked at him in confusion. He nodded across the parking lot where a black sedan had just come to a stop, the back door opening and a tall, grey-haired man wearing a cassock stepping out. Steve jogged down the steps and headed across the lot.

"Steve knows him?" Tanner asked no one in particular.

"I guess," Haseejian shrugged.

Dan smiled knowingly. "That's Father Driscoll. He and Mike go way back from what I hear." They watched as Steve and the priest walked towards a side entrance and disappeared. "Have either of you seen Jeannie the last little while?"

The two sergeants shook their heads. "I suspect she's busy elsewhere," Haseejian said knowingly. "I mean, there are two sides in this, aren't there?"

"Good point," Dan said with a smile.

# # # # #

"Oh my god, Maggie, you look gorgeous," Jeannie said breathlessly, watching as the older woman studied herself in the cheval mirror.

The tall brunette turned to her, looking insecure. "Do you think Mike'll like it?"

"Are you kidding?" Jeannie chuckled. "We'll be lucky if he takes his eyes off you long enough to acknowledge that the rest of us are here."

Maggie smiled, her expression turning serious again. "He really is okay? I mean, he's told me he's fine but I know men…"

Jeannie smiled encouragingly. "He's doing great, he really is. He's not a hundred percent yet, he still has some pain in his chest once in awhile, but it's getting better all the time."

Although they had exchanged tapes and letters, and even spoken on the phone a couple of times, Maggie hadn't seen Mike since she left him at the hospital. She looked at Jeannie self-consciously. "I'm just so nervous, like a teen-ager going to the prom."

"Ah, this is a little more serious than the prom, I'm afraid," Jeannie giggled, and Maggie laughed.

"Yeah, it certainly is." The older woman shook her head. "I still don't know how you managed to pull this off, but I'll be forever grateful that you did." She came to sit on the bed beside her future stepdaughter.

"Well, I didn't do it alone, that's for sure. There was Steve and Dan, of course, and then it just sort of snowballed. Once I convinced Daddy that it was the right thing to do, and that he would be doing it with my blessing, well, things just sort of fell into place." She smiled to herself, looking down. "You remember that conversation we had while we were doing the dishes that first time, when you said that Mike was well-loved. I've always known that, you know, but to know it intellectually is one thing… to see it manifestly, it's quite something else."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, the first person outside of our little circle I spoke to about all this was Marie Olsen – she's the wife of Mike's old captain and someone I've known… all my life, I guess. She has a great mind for this kind of thing, and she adores my Dad. She also has a lot of connections too and, boy, did she use them. And she had some really amazing ideas.

"There were so many people who wanted to help out, but they were also people I knew I could trust to keep it very low profile. And then, when I got that call from Agent Andela and he said he'd get the FBI to help out as well – well, there was just no stopping us."

Maggie had taken both Jeannie's hands in her own and was staring into her face with tear-brightened eyes. "You really are making a dream come true, you know that, right?"

"Not just yours," Jeannie smiled warmly, "mine as well. The most important thing in my life right now is my wish for my Dad to be happy."

"And I will spend the rest of _my_ life making sure that happens." Maggie enveloped the younger woman in a loving hug.

# # # # #

Steve opened the door and charged into the room with a little more energy than he'd meant to; even he was starting to feel the electricity that seemed to permeate every nook and cranny of the large resort. "Oh, sorry," he mumbled as he shut the door a little too hard, chuckling.

"Everything okay?" Mike asked dryly with a slight smile, still sitting in the chair.

"Ah, yeah, everything's just fine. Father Driscoll is here and Rabbi Schulman showed up about a half hour ago, so all's hunky dory out there. It won't be long."

"Hunky dory?" echoed Mike, his eyebrows rising, and Steve could tell from his tone that his old partner was in a playful mood. "Is that a Catholic or a Jewish expression?"

"I think it's an 'I'm-getting-so-nervous-I-can-hardly-think-straight' expression," Steve answered seriously then grinned.

"What are _you_ so nervous about? I'm the one that's supposed to be nervous."

"Well, aren't you?"

Mike paused for a second, pretending to think. "Yes," he said, nodding then started to laugh as he stood. He took a step closer to the younger man, and his expression turned serious. "Listen, Steve, we might not get a chance to talk much later, what with everything that's gonna be happening and all that."

Steve braced himself for what he knew was coming, and what he didn't want to face.

He nodded slightly, "I know, I know…"

Mike looked deep into his young friend's eyes, his own starting to tear up, and he blinked quickly to try to clear them. "I just want to make sure you know everything you mean to me right now… and have meant… and will mean. I've been blessed with the best partner and the best friend anybody could ever have… and I cherish you." The quiet tears had begun to flow and Mike coughed self-consciously, reaching up to brush them away.

Steve, his own eyes brimming, reached out and pulled the older man into a fierce hug, pulling their heads close together. He could feel Mike's fingers digging into his back and he tightened his grip.

Chuckling slightly, they pulled apart, smiling at each other. Looking down, Mike dug into his pants pocket, his hand coming out with a small dark blue velvet jewelry box. He held it out. Steve looked from the box back up to Mike, who laughed quickly, "Don't worry, it's not a ring."

Laughing as well, sniffing and quickly wiping his eyes, Steve took the box as Mike pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his own eyes, watching in anticipation.

Steve opened the small box slowly then froze, his smile quickly disappearing. He looked up at Mike, eyes wide, stunned. Mike smiled happily, biting his lip.

Steve reached into the box and took out a polished, glistening solid gold coin the size of a silver dollar. He stared at it, at the simple script that spelled out Steve, his sharp exhale a mixture of shock and delight.

"Turn it over," Mike said softly, and Steve looked up at him briefly before shifting the coin in his hand. He gasped, tears forming in his eyes and he started to shake. In an identical font, it said Mike.

"How many times over the years have we heard that we were two sides of the same coin? So…"

Overwhelmed and unable to talk, Steve stared at his best friend, trying to smile through his tears. He settled for pulling Mike once more into his arms, burying his face against the older man's neck, his body trembling, his mind numb, a being of pure emotion.

As he felt Mike's arms tighten around his chest, he raised his head and whispered in his ear, "What am I going to do without you?"

# # # # #

There was a discreet knock on the door. "Yes?" Jeannie called out, and they heard Dan's muffled reply, "Ladies, it's time to go."

Jeannie got up from the bed, turning to the older woman. Raising her eyebrows, she asked, "Ready?"

Maggie took a deep breath, looked at herself once more in the cheval mirror, turned back and nodded. "As I'll ever be," she said with a determined smile.

Jeannie opened the door. Dan's eyebrows shot into his hairline. "Whoa!" he said breathlessly when his eyes fell on the tall brunette.

With a mischievous grin, Maggie turned to Jeannie. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"I would," said Jeannie with a chuckle. As the two women started down the hall, she turned to the immobile young cop. "Close your mouth, Dan," she giggled.

# # # # #

"How do you do that?" Steve asked in exasperation as he once more straightened Mike's tie.

"Do what?" Mike was fidgeting, shifting his weight from foot to foot, glancing around the large room that was filled to overflowing but not managing to make eye contact with anybody, it seemed. Steve knew who he was looking for.

"Stand still," Steve ordered, as if talking to an unruly child. "We still have a few minutes. For god's sake, the priest and the rabbi aren't even here yet."

Mike snickered. "That sounds like the beginning of a really bad joke."

Steve looked at him and laughed. "It better not be." He glanced over Mike's shoulder. "Ah, here they are," and Mike turned around to see Father Driscoll and Rabbi Schulman approaching. The four men exchanged handshakes, Father Driscoll enveloping Mike in a quick hug, beaming from ear to ear, obviously elated to be there.

Talking to the priest, Mike wasn't aware of the increased volume of voices in the room until Steve tapped him on the shoulder. "Mike," he said quietly, a smile in his voice. "Turn around."

And the older man did.


	30. Chapter 30

Mike caught his breath, his eyes widened and he froze momentarily, his knees buckling slightly. He didn't feel Steve's steadying hand on his arm.

Across the room, Maggie, resplendent in a ruby red spaghetti-strap cocktail dress with matching heels, had stopped as well, staring at her fiancé in his immaculately tailored black suit. For them, there was nobody else in the room.

Although it seemed that every eye in the place was on the stunning bride-to-be, three pairs of eyes were on the prospective groom. Jeannie, Steve and Dan were well aware that Mike and Maggie hadn't seen each other since she had left him, a man broken both physically and emotionally, in the hospital room almost four months before.

And now they were together again.

Jeannie, watching her father from Maggie's side, bit her lip to keep it from trembling, blinking quickly in the futile hope that she could stop her tears from falling. Dan, slowly approaching Maggie from the other side, looked down, trying to control his own overwhelming emotions. Steve, his hand still on Mike's arm, was grinning broadly and shaking his head, beguiled.

Somewhere in the now silent crowd, Haseejian leaned towards Tanner and whispered, "I bet every man in the room is thinking, 'Way to go Mike!'" The black sergeant chuckled softly.

Dan slowly approached Maggie and extended his right elbow. "Ms. Jarris," he said quietly and watched as she tore her eyes away from Mike and looked at him.

"Oh, Dan, thank you," she said softly as she took his arm and they started towards the small makeshift stage at the far end of the room where Mike and the others waited under the white canopy. Jeannie fell into step behind them. Maggie found Mike's eyes again and she remained oblivious to everyone but her fiancé until she climbed the two small steps to him. He reached out and took both her hands in his, resisting the urge to pull her into an embrace.

"You look wonderful," she whispered in awe and relief.

He grinned, tears brightening his eyes. "And you look gorgeous," he whispered back and leaned in to kiss her.

"Ah ah ah," came a quick resonant voice, and they both looked at a beaming Father Driscoll, who was staring at Mike with raised eyebrows, "there'll be plenty of time for that later."

With an embarrassed chuckle, Mike glanced back at Maggie, who was smiling at him lovingly. "Sorry, Father."

Driscoll straightened up and faced the assembled crowd. "Well, we better get this started, don't you think?" he laughed and the crowd responded in kind.

With a warm inclusive glance at Steve and Rabbi Schulman, and Maggie and Mike turning to face him, Father Driscoll began with the Greeting and Opening Prayer. Under the chuppah, with Steve, Jeannie and Dan standing nearby, the ceremony continued, the bride and groom reciting their vows, in both faiths, followed by the exchanging of the rings.

Steve placed the diamond wedding band in Mike's trembling hand as he stared at Maggie, slipping it onto her finger, saying quietly, his voice shaking, "Take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity."

Jeannie handed Maggie Mike's ring, and watched as Maggie did the same to her father. She reached up and rang her finger along the gold chain around her neck, touching the solid gold band that it held, her father's old wedding ring that had been removed at the hospital and never put back on.

After the Blessing of the Wine and the final blessings from both faiths, Rabbi Schulman addressed the gathered. Facing Mike and Maggie, he said proudly, "The glass from which you shared a sip symbolizes that life, and marriage, are fragile. I pray that you will be happy with each other, and that you will be good to each other. May you always drink from the full and crush the empty beneath you. In accordance to ancient tradition, we wish that the years of your marriage would be no less than the time it would take to fit the fragments of this together again.

"And so, break the glass, and when you do we will say together _**Mazel Tov**_ , which means congratulations." He put the wineglass on the floor and covered it with a white hanky.

Turning to Maggie, his face alight with a wide grin, and with her holding his left arm for support, Mike raised his right foot and crushed the glass. Everyone in the room yelled, "Mazel Tov" and began to clap enthusiastically.

Laughing and grinning, Father Driscoll and Rabbi Schulman waved everyone quiet. "We're not quite finished yet," Driscoll said with a chuckle and an almost 'I'm sorry'

shrug. He gestured towards the rabbi.

Nodding formally, but unable to stifle his smile, Rabbi Schulman looked at Mike and Maggie, nodded, then turned once more to face the crowd. "My dear friends, it is my pleasure to introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Michael and Margaret Stone."

As the crowd erupted in cheers, Father Driscoll raised a forefinger again and the silence was immediate. "Not yet," he said threateningly, but with humour in his voice. Standing front and centre, he opened his arms. "Go in peace to love and serve the Lord, and each other."

The Catholics in the audience responded, "Thanks be to God." An unnatural silence filled the room for several seconds as nobody moved. Then Driscoll shrugged and grinned. "That's it, it's all over. They're all yours!" He laughed and backed away as Mike and Maggie stepped towards each other. As they came together, Maggie put both hands on Mike's face and kissed him, oblivious to everyone around them.

Steve slapped Mike on the back as Jeannie crossed to him, and he turned and pulled her into a hug. "They finally did it," she shouted above the noise and she heard him laugh.

Mike pulled back from his wife and looked her in the eye, grinning. "You can hug me now, you know, it doesn't hurt anymore."

With a happy "Oh yes!" she wrapped her arms around his chest and squeezed. And with a booming laugh, he grabbed her and lifted her off her feet.

"Hey, hey," Steve said quickly, his hand on Mike's back, "easy there, you don't want to pull something." Laughing, Steve's words carried no small degree of sincerity. He knew his old partner wasn't completely healthy yet and didn't want his enthusiasm to override his common sense.

As Mike and Maggie disappeared amidst a crowd of well-wishers, Steve, Jeannie and Dan made their happy way to one side of the room. Finding an area where they could hear themselves think, the trio plopped down on one of the couches that dotted the edges of the large and very comfortable room.

Steve looked at Jeannie with an appreciative smile, but when he didn't say anything, she finally asked, "What?"

"Hmmh?" he replied, eyebrows on the rise, seeming to pull himself out of a reverie.

"You're staring at me like I have two heads. What is it?"

"Oh, ah, I was just thinking how amazing it is that you managed to pull this off." He saw Dan started to nod in agreement.

"Well, thank you," she said almost dismissively, "but it's not over yet. There's still, well, you know…"

"Yeah, well, that's not for a few hours, so let's just enjoy ourselves until then, okay?" he said gently.

The three fell silent for a few long moments then Dan said brightly. "Well, I am going to check on the food." As he stood, he shook his head in amazement. "I still can't believe you talked me into organizing the food," he said to Jeannie, bewilderment in his voice. "I've never done anything like this before."

"See, another thing you can add to your resume… should you ever need one," she finished quickly, glancing at Steve and trying not to cringe.

"I'm just glad you didn't make everything vegetarian," Steve said, rolling his eyes. Slouching on the couch, he laced his hands over his stomach, rested his chin on his chest and chuckled evilly, embarrassing her even more. She shot him an 'I could kill you right now' look.

As Dan walked away, shaking his head, Jeannie stared daggers at Steve. "You're just stoking the fire, you know that, right?" she hissed, not quite succeeding in keeping the amusement out of her tone.

Since Mike had decided to retire, Dan was unsure if he wanted to stay in Homicide, and they knew he had met with Dan Healey, whose temporary replacement of Mike as the head of Homicide had been made permanent. The young cop had also mentioned a few times that he was thinking of leaving the department altogether, and no amount of dissuasion on Jeannie's part seemed to help.

"Well," she sighed, still buoyed by adrenaline, "I am going to check on the music." She stood, glancing at the crowd still surrounding the newlyweds then looked down at Steve with a slight scowl. "Don't just sit here. You have to rescue Mike and Maggie from that crowd so we can get the rest of this party started," she chuckled.

Steve looked across the room and smiled. "Let's give them some time. They need it. Besides, it's not like this is gonna happen again, right?" he asked quietly then looked at her. Sadly, she nodded.

# # # # #

The interfaith ceremony having been conducted on neutral ground, nothing else about the ceremony was traditional either, or so it seemed to those who attended.

The meal, which everyone enjoyed immensely much to Dan's relief, was served buffet style, allowing everyone to mingle, especially the newly minted husband and wife.

As all the guests were friends or former colleagues of the groom, Maggie made the rounds with Mike, constantly amazed at his memory for names and faces. This was a byproduct, she knew, of his years as a cop, but that didn't diminish her appreciation. Arm in arm, they circled the room more than once, speaking to everyone.

As the sun began to set, everyone took their seats at the tables that had been set up around a dance floor. A seven-man band, SFPD cops who been playing together for years, had taken over the small 'stage', and the lights were slightly dimmed.

Over the low murmur of voices as people settled at the tables, Jeannie's voice floated out from the speakers near the stage, introducing herself and thanking everyone for coming.

"As most of you know, this wasn't an easy wedding to put together, but I am sure you all can agree, it was well worth it." The place erupted in shouts, cheers and clapping, and she could hear Steve and some of the guys from Homicide with their ear-piercing whistles.

Laughing, she managed to get them all shushed. "Now, before we get to the dancing and heavy drinking portion of the evening…" she started with a chuckle, glaring conspicuously at her fathers former colleagues, who all turned to each other with dissembling looks while Mike laughed affectionately, "we have a couple of special songs we want to play."

She looked pointedly at Mike and Maggie. "Mom and Dad," she said with a sad, sweet, happy smile, and a giggle at Maggie's gentle admonishment, "would you take the dance floor please?"

Mike rose quickly, extended his hand to Maggie, and together they walked out onto the dance floor.

"Both Maggie and Mike were asked to select a song that best describes their relationship to each other. Neither one knows what the other selected," Jeannie said with a chuckle, "and as a matter of fact, the band and I are the only ones who know what both songs are." Jeannie looked at the musicians and they all nodded, smiling. A young woman got up from one of the nearby tables and took the stage beside Jeannie.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is my friend Jenna Wright, a full-time pre-med student and part-time lounge singer," Jeannie said with a comical leer, and the young blond laughed, faking indignation. Laughing herself, Jeannie turned, "Mike…Daddy, this is Maggie's song for you."


	31. Chapter 31

The first simple chords from the piano wafted gently across the room as Mike slipped his arms around Maggie's waist and she reached up to lay her forearms on his shoulders, interlocking her fingers at the back of his neck. No one recognized the song at first, and then Jenna began to sing, "Look at me…"

Mike threw his head back and laughed as Maggie's face lit up. Everyone instantly recognized the Errol Garner classic "Misty" and a murmur of delighted approval filled the room. But the two people on the floor, locked in a snug embrace, eyes closed, were slow dancing in a world of their own. Those with good eyesight could see that Maggie was singing to him as they danced, and his grin was pure love.

The room erupted when the song ended, and Jenna Wright took a well-deserved bow, the applause being led by the newlyweds.

"Wow," said Jeannie as she took the microphone and watched her friend return to her seat, "Maggie, I hope that was everything you wanted it to be."

Maggie opened her arms and grinned. "And more!" she called towards Jenna and the young singer smiled her thanks.

"Well, Mike, it's your turn," Jeannie said with an affectionate grin as she looked at her father. He nodded, his arm around Maggie's shoulders. "Ladies and gentlemen," Jeannie continued with a gentle chuckle, "I'm pretty sure that most of you aren't aware of the romantic side of Mike Stone…" She paused when a chorus of chuckles and guffaws came from a few tables, most notably the ones with his close colleagues, and she was pretty sure she heard Steve's laugh leading the way.

Mike turned towards the ruckus, his arms out, palms up. "What?" he asked, feigning shock and indignation. He placed a hand on his chest. "I'm hurt," he whined petulantly, and the laughter turned to "Aww's", which caused even more amusement.

"As I was saying," came Jeannie's voice even louder through the speakers, and the commotion died down, "and without any further ado, this, Maggie, is for you." She stepped off the stage, taking the microphone with her, and the band began to play, the piano and drum brushes providing the slow and easy intro. The trombone player, who had put his instrument on its holder, approached the stand mic.

Mike had turned back to Maggie and leaned forward to whisper in her ear. Then he stood staring into her eyes until the singer began. "The very thought of you, makes my heart sing…"

Maggie gasped and leaned against him, her head on his chest. He smiled, tears springing to his eyes, and he bent forward to kiss the top of her head then wrap his arms around her, pulling her even closer. As they swayed to the music, the room fell into a euphoric hush and by the time the last note of "My One And Only Love" had finished there wasn't a dry eye in the room.

Mike and Maggie didn't move as the applause filled the air around them, still locked in each other's embrace. From her seat at a table near the stage, Jeannie said into the microphone, "Ladies and gentlemen, please join Mike and Maggie on the dance floor," as the band began to play "Someone To Watch Over Me".

Steve got up from his table across the room and, glancing at the still oblivious Mike and Maggie, crossed to Jeannie, who was talking to her friend. He extended his hand. "Miss Stone, may I have the pleasure?"

She grinned up at him, took his hand, and let him lead her to the dance floor, close to the newlyweds. As they began to dance, her arms around his neck, his around her waist, they sidled up to Mike and Maggie.

Glancing at Jeannie with a sly smile, Steve steered them even closer and he softly but deliberately cleared his throat. When there was still no reaction from his former partner, he cleared his throat even louder.

With a start, Mike shot him a look, then his face softened and he smiled. "Oh, hi," he said, somewhat flustered, as Maggie chuckled.

"Hi?" said Steve with warm sarcasm. "Hi?" Jeannie playfully slapped his chest. Steve laughed.

Jeannie pulled away from Steve and approached her father. With a warm smile at her newly minted stepmother, she said, "Maggie, would you mind if I cut in?"

With a broad grin, Maggie stepped away from Mike and Jeannie gently put her arms around her father's neck and laid her head against his chest. With an emotion-filled smile and swallowing heavily, Mike put his arms around his daughter's waist and closed his eyes. And as the Gershwin song continued, Steve and Maggie, now dancing themselves, watched with heavy hearts.

"How are you doing?" Steve asked as the song drew to a close.

Maggie looked at him and smiled, and there was no mistaking that this was indeed a woman in love. "Absolutely wonderful," she sighed. "I was just so relieved to see him looking as well as he does."

"I told ya," he said lightly with a chuckle.

"I know, but hearing someone say it and actually seeing it – those are two totally different things." Her smile disappeared. "We owe you so much, Steve –"

"You don't owe me anything," he cut her off quickly, his own smile now gone. "I'd do anything for him, you have to know that by now."

She nodded and tried to smile again, but tears threatened and she shook her head sharply. "No, I can't do that, not right now. I don't want to make this any harder for him than it's going to be."

Steve pulled her closer. "He'll be okay. He has you," he said softly.

# # # # #

Jeannie looked up at her father. "How do you feel, Daddy?"

He grinned down at her. "On top of the world," he chuckled with a shake of his head. "You've done a wonderful job with all this, you really have. Maggie and I will never be able to thank you enough."

"Are you kidding?" she smiled back. "You already have, just by getting married." She tightened her grip around his neck and pulled him closer. "I am so proud of you, Daddy, and I adore Maggie. I want you two to have the life you both deserve."

Unable to talk, Mike stared into her eyes, and she smiled lovingly back at him. Then she laid her head on his chest once again and they both closed their eyes. When the music stopped, they didn't move.

# # # # #

Maggie stepped down off the stage and crossed to her small group in the centre of the dance floor. "You made a request?" Jeannie asked with a chuckle.

"Yes, I did," Maggie said with humorous emphasis. "I said, enough of these slow songs, we need to get moving."

"So…what did you ask them to play?" Steve asked cautiously, with a sidelong glance at Mike who was looking at Maggie with skeptical and somewhat frightened raised eyebrows.

"You'll see," she said with enigmatic glee, chuckling at Jeannie, who beamed back happily.

"You think they can play it?" Steve asked, watching the band members in a huddle.

"Well, they said they could, so we'll see."

Mike and Steve exchanged slightly anxious looks, the older man smiling wanly. Then they watched as the trombonist and trumpet player took the forestage and Jenna Wright came up to join them. She was grinning broadly and nodding enthusiastically.

The drummer counted them in and they started fast and loud. Jeannie recognized the song instantly, spun to Maggie and yelled over the music, "That's brilliant!" Maggie nodded back happily, as a grinning Steve turned to a still baffled Mike.

Maggie and the two younger people began to move to the music, leaving Mike standing there unsure what to do. But when the singers finally began with the familiar "Ah, that's the way, uh hunh, uh hunh, I like it", he grinned and, his eyes focused on Maggie, started to dance, much to everyone's delight.

# # # # #

About an hour later, Maggie led Mike towards a table. "No, seriously, I want you to take a break," she said, her tone stern and concerned. "You told me yourself you're not exactly a hundred percent yet. And, after all, it _is_ our wedding night; I want you to save some of that energy for later," she said suggestively as she pushed him down onto a chair.

Acquiescing, he grabbed her hand as she began to walk away. "Well then, the same goes for you too, right?" he countered, raising his eyebrows.

She smiled lovingly, her hand under his chin. "I'm just going to get us some drinks. You stay." And with that she walked away.

He watched her go then jumped slightly when he felt a light tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Father Driscoll standing behind him. "Mind if I join you?" the priest asked with a grin.

"No, please,"Mike said quickly, gesturing at a nearby chair.

The priest sat heavily. "You know," he said with a deep chuckle, "I usually don't hang around for the reception after a wedding but seeing as I really don't know where I am and my ride home doesn't leave till tomorrow morning…"

Mike laughed. "Sorry for all the cloak and dagger, Father, but, well, we didn't have much choice. It'll all be explained eventually."

"Hey, I'm not complaining," the priest laughed. "I'm enjoying myself. I might even get up on that dance floor eventually."

Mike grinned then turned serious. "Father, I really need to thank you, you and Rabbi Schulman, for doing this for us. I know it went against church doctrine – "

"Michael, please. I love my God and I love my religion but sometimes the church itself can be it's own worst enemy. I have no problems with inter-faith marriages and I think religious institutions, Catholic, Protestant, Jewish, Muslim – all of them – are going to have to start embracing them or they're gonna lose a lot of worshippers."

"Well, I'm glad you were here for us, thank you."

# # # # #

It was getting close to midnight when Mike stepped down from the stage and approached Jeannie, asking her to dance. They walked slowly to centre of the floor and he held her close. The music started, and she seemed to melt into him even more.

From the far side of the room, Steve heard the music begin and his heart constricted. He looked quickly at Maggie, who was across the room staring at her husband and his daughter, her face a stricken mask.

Trying not to draw attention, he eased around the edge of the dance floor to her, slipping an arm around her shoulders when he reached her. She glanced up appreciatively and laid her head against him.

"The song was his idea," she said softly, her voice constricted by unshed tears, as they listened to the Cole Porter classic.

"This is gonna kill me," Steve said quietly, as his grip on her tightened, listening as the heartbreaking lyrics of "Every Time We Say Goodbye" floated through the room.

# # # # #

The song ended. Maggie glanced up at Steve, whose bright eyes were the only visible indication of the turmoil he was going through. When he turned to her, she kissed him. "Thank you…for everything," she said lovingly then she broke away from him and crossed to Mike, who was still on the dance floor with Jeannie.

She approached him quietly and took his arm. He looked at her slowly, and when she nodded, he nodded back. He turned once more to his daughter and enveloped her a bear hug; they kissed and looked into each others eyes, then Mike backed away and followed Maggie toward the exit.

As Mike climbed the few stairs to the landing, he turned and looked back into the room. Through the crowd of dancers and revelers, his eyes met Steve's immediately. Both men froze. Eventually Mike tried to smile, and even from across the room Steve could see the tears threatening to fall.

Taking a deep breath, Mike raised his right hand to his chest. With his forefinger, he pointed at himself, made a fist over his heart then pointed towards Steve.

The younger man gasped, his hand going to his face, covering his mouth. He began to shake. He raised his own right hand to his chest, made a fist over his heart then flashed two fingers, attempting a smile.

Mike laughed and nodded, and tears began to fall. At his side, Maggie gently touched his arm. He turned to her, grinning shakily, and she smiled lovingly back at him. He nodded, turned once more to meet Steve's eyes then, his head down, followed his wife through the door and disappeared.


	32. Chapter 32

Maggie glanced up at Mike as they walked down the corridor side by side, the FBI agent leading the way. He was staring straight ahead, his face a mask, but she could see he was trembling and taking deep laboured breaths.

The agent stopped outside a heavy mahogany door, removing a key from his pocket. They waited as he unlocked the door and pushed it open. Maggie took Mike's arm and led him into the room, turning back to the agent as she passed him.

"I'll be right out here, ma'am," the young federal cop said quietly and she nodded, smiling gratefully and closing the door.

She led Mike to the bed and pushed him down. He hadn't made eye contact with her since they left the main hall, and her heart was breaking for him. As he continued to stare straight ahead, she slipped off his shoes and his jacket; he offered no resistance.

Standing in front of him, she undid his tie and pulled it free of his already unbuttoned collar. Then she sat beside him on the bed and put her arms around him. Suddenly, feeling her embrace, any pretense of control fell away and he collapsed against her, sobbing. She pulled his head against her chest and started to rock him gently.

Weeping herself, unable to contain the indescribable anguish she was also feeling, she pulled him down onto the bed and held him until there were no tears left.

# # # # #

Steve stood as if rooted to the spot, unable to tear his eyes away from the door that Mike has just walked through; the door that Mike had just walked out of his life through. He felt a hand softly on his shoulder and turned to see Dan standing beside him, looking equally overcome.

Steve tried a feeble smile. "Did you get to talk to him?"

Dan nodded. "Yeah, he pulled me aside about a half hour ago. I can't believe –"

"Let's go see how Jeannie's doing," the older man cut him off, putting an arm around his shoulders and steering him towards the centre of the room where Mike's daughter was still standing.

She looked up as they approached, her eyes almost overwhelmingly sad, and she smiled warmly at them. Steve smiled back then put his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her head into his chest, wrapping his arms around her. He felt her shudder as she slipped her arms around his waist and hugged him.

"Come on," Steve said to them both, "let's go find a place to sit down."

His arm still around her, they made their way to one of the empty couches against a wall and sat heavily. No one said anything for several long moments then Dan looked up. "I'll go get us something to drink," he said vaguely and got to his feet almost in a daze, walking off.

Jeannie turned to Steve, trying to smile. "We did the right thing, didn't we?" she asked quietly.

He stared at her, a fond smile slow to emerge. "You know we did."

Several people seemed to be crossing the floor towards them and Steve tore his eyes from Jeannie to look up, smiling when he recognized his former colleagues. Haseejian, his own eyes clouded and grave, gestured towards the couch and nearby chairs. "Do you mind?"

With a quick glance at Jeannie, who smiled back encouragingly, Steve chuckled. "Of course not."

"Great," said Tanner, a glass of beer in one hand, "let's pull another couple of couches up, I have a feeling it's gonna get crowded over here." He and a few of the others wrestled two more couches and some chairs into a rough circle.

Dan reappeared with three of bottles of champagne and a handful of stemmed glasses. It didn't take long for the small talk to take over, the 'rehashment' of the ceremony and reception the dominant topic. And it seemed the more Jeannie, Steve and Dan talked about Mike, the more they relaxed and a warm feeling of contentment began to replace the despair.

# # # # #

"What are you thinking about?" she asked gently as she lay in his arms, both flushed and sweaty, a sheet partly wrapped around both their bodies.

Without looking at her, Mike smiled fondly. "You," he said with a happy sigh. He pulled her closer and she buried her head against his chest. She ran her fingertips delicately over the scars that scored his chest. He chuckled lightly. "That tickles."

She looked at him with a furrowed brow and he turned his head to meet her eyes.

"Really?" she asked, perplexed.

He nodded, smiling. "The skin is still pretty sensitive there and it tickles."

She slid her hand across his chest and held him. He suddenly felt her hot tears against his skin. "What?" he asked gently.

"I'm just so grateful you're still here. I really thought I was flying to San Francisco to say goodbye." She rested the side of her face against his chest, listening to the strong beat of his heart.

"Not for a long time, my darling, not for a long time…."

# # # # #

"So who'da thought Mike could dance?" Haseejian said to no one in particular. "I, for one, was very impressed." Several of the others chuckled. "You held out on us, Steve, you never told us about his smooth moves." Haseejian glanced mischievously at Jeannie.

"What? Wait a minute, when would Mike and I have gone dancing together...? … I mean – wait a minute, you know what I mean…" The laughter was getting louder and louder and Steve was getting more and more flustered.

"After all, it _is_ San Francisco," Lessing said quietly with a chuckle.

"Wait, what?!" Steve's protest was overwhelmed by the rising tide of laughter. Jeannie looked at Dan and giggled. Taking pity, the young cop reached over with a bottle of champagne and started to top up Steve's glass, which gave the university professor enough time to regroup. "Okay, you all know what I meant –"

"It's okay, Steve," Dan Healey said patronizingly, patting his former colleague's knee, "you don't have to explain yourself."

With a frustrated sigh and faux peeved look, Steve sat back and briefly flashed his middle finger, mouthing an expletive. The laughter got even louder. Shaking his head and smiling, he glanced at Jeannie, relieved to see the troubled look receding from her eyes.

"Ladies and gentlemen," came an announcement over the speakers, "it's time to call it a night, but before we go, there is one more request. We were asked to play this song last, so here goes. Good night, ladies and gentlemen, you've been wonderful and we hope we have too." The trombone player backed away from the mic and Jenna Wright stepped forward.

As the band began to play, Steve froze and his smile instantly disappeared. Suddenly overwhelmed, he gasped for breath. Then he stopped, and very slowly an ironic, loving grin split his face. Shaking his head, he leaned forward and stared at the floor, starting to laugh as The Carpenters "Close To You" filled the room.

# # # # #

Maggie giggled suddenly and Mike looked at her. They were still wrapped in each other's arms. "What?"

"I was just thinking about the conversation we had with John. 'So,'" she dropped her voice, mimicking the FBI agent, "'we want you two to exit the party around midnight but we're not quite sure when we'll be leaving after that. We don't want to make it too easy if there's anyone watching. So you'll have to find something to do for a few hours till we leave.'"

She laughed throatily. "I swear, you looked at him like he'd just told you I was made of cheese." She dropped her voice again, this time imitating Mike. "'John, it's our wedding night; I think we can find something to do.' Oh my god, I thought John was going to crawl under the table he was so embarrassed."

Mike chuckled, "Well, I was right, wasn't I?" He pulled her closer and sighed contentedly.

Her laughter dying, she looked up at him. "Having any second thoughts?" she asked softly.

He didn't move for several seconds, then looked down at her and smiled lovingly. "About us?" She nodded. "Not a one." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I just wish it wasn't under these circumstances, that's all."

She tightened her grip on his chest. "Me too," she sighed sadly.

There was a soft knock on the door.

# # # # #

It was a couple of hours till daybreak and the main hall was still half full. They had gathered in large groups and copious amounts of alcohol had been consumed, but because everyone was staying at the resort, no one was concerned.

Hugh Donaldson, a Robbery inspector and amazing guitar player, had joined their circle, sitting beside Jeannie on one of the couches, picking out chords on his acoustic. As the conversation drifted from subject to subject, he punctuated various anecdotes and observations with musical rifts.

When a couple of the guys asked for certain songs to be played so they could sing along, something twigged in Steve and he turned to Jeannie beside him. "You never told me what song it was?" he said, his words only slightly slurred.

Jeannie's head turn was a little slower than usual. "What?" she asked.

"The song?" he said again, and when she looked at him blankly, he repeated emphatically, "The song – the one that's responsible for all this." He gestured around the room.

"Oh," she said slowly, elongating the word. She shook her head. "Nope, sorry. I'm not gonna tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because you'll just laugh at me."

"Now why would I laugh at you?"

"Because you'll think I'm just a silly little…"

"Girl?"

She glared at him with her lips pursed.

"Okay, then at least tell me who sang it? Come on, I used to be a detective, remember? You've got my interest piqued and I'm not going to let this go, so, you know…?" He shrugged.

She sighed dramatically. "All right. John Denver," she said quietly, trying not to draw attention.

Steve snorted, then caught himself and smiled apologetically.

"See!" she said in a harsh whisper, glancing around at the others. "I knew you'd do that."

"I'm sorry, it's just…. John Denver?" Steve said, still incredulous but trying to sound apologetic. When she didn't say anything, he continued, with a valiant attempt to keep the amusement out of his voice, "'Rocky Mountain High'? 'Thank God I'm A Country Boy'? … 'Leaving On A Jet Plane'?" He was well aware he was really beginning to tick her off but he couldn't stop himself. It was a mixture of hubris and alcohol right now; a deadly combination, he knew.

Exasperated, knowing she had to shut him up one way or another, she turned to Donaldson beside her and whispered in his ear. He listened attentively then nodded with approval. Steve thought he heard him say, "Oh, that's a beautiful song…"

"Thank you," Jeannie said pointedly, turning slightly back in Steve's direction.

Donaldson began to pick out the chords, slowly and effortlessly, and Jeannie could sense Steve's attention refocus. Everyone within earshot suddenly quieted, and all eyes turned in the direction of the musician as he began to sing, his voice as smooth and natural as his playing.

"Lady, are you crying? Do the tears belong to me? Did you think our time together was all gone? Lady, you've been dreaming. I'm as close as I can be. And I swear to you our time has just begun…."

Steve dropped his head, and Jeannie could see his bottom lip trembling. Blindly he reached out, wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his side.

# # # # #

The crowd had thinned out noticeably, with only the diehards remaining. Steve and Jeannie were still sitting on the couch; Haseejian, Tanner, Lessing and Healey had remained with them. Though nothing had been said, they all knew what was going on. The conversation had died out and it seemed like everyone was just waiting for the inevitable.

Dan slowly crossed the room, his step heavy and his eyes down. As he got to the couch, he turned and sat wearily, then slowly looked at Steve and Jeannie and tried to smile. He took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "They're gone," he said quietly.

Jeannie caught her breath with a tiny whimper and Steve closed his eyes. She burrowed her head against his chest and began to cry. His eyes still closed, Steve reached out and pulled Dan closer, as silent tears streamed down his cheeks.


	33. Chapter 33

The rental car turned into the gravel lane in front of the small blue-grey clapboard Cape Cod-style home. Steve Keller stepped out of the nondescript brown sedan and surveyed the house, a warm smile beneath the dark glasses. Noticing a piece of white paper taped to the front door, he glanced around, his cop's eyes taking everything in before he stepped onto the porch and grabbed the note, which was blowing about in the stiff, chilly fall breeze.

 _Walk down to the cliff,_ the note said, with an arrow pointing to the right. Steve chuckled, recognizing the handwriting.

Stuffing the note in his jacket pocket, he crossed back out onto the road and strode in the direction indicated. At the end of the road there was a berm topped with dune grass, whipping back and forth in the bitingly strong wind. His desert boots sank slightly into the soft sand as he climbed to the top of the berm and looked down.

Below him, waves, whipped up by the wind, were breaking noisily on the narrow sandy beach. Whitecaps were visible as far as the eye could see. But the seemingly inclement weather was obviously not a hindrance for the locals. A good number were walking along the shore, just out of reach of the encroaching, foamy waves. Three people were riding horses at the edge of the water, while still others were gamely trying to fish. Two hardy souls, in wetsuits, were sitting on surfboards, patiently waiting, it seemed, for a wave big enough to tackle.

Amid all this activity, Steve saw them. He was wearing a black baseball cap and windbreaker, beige slacks and sneakers. Both hands were in his pockets. She was wearing jeans, a thick burgundy cardigan and sneakers as well. She had both her arms wrapped around his left arm, leaning towards him. Steve smiled; they looked so very much like an older version of the iconic "The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan" album cover.

She leaned into him even closer and he obviously said something funny, for she threw her head back and Steve could see her flashing smile. Fighting the wind, it took several seconds for the peal of her laughter to reach his ears. He fought the sudden tears that sprang to his eyes, blinking rapidly, trying to blame it on the wind and the sand.

Then suddenly the man looked up and stopped quickly. She stopped as well, looking up at him, at his raised eyebrows and stunned expression. She followed his gaze then gasped herself, a grin erupting quickly, and she gripped her companion's arm even tighter. He glanced down at her then with a quick laugh, broke into a slow jog, crossing the beach towards the cliff, she scrambling joyfully to keep up.

Grinning and laughing, Steve made his way down the side of the short cliff toward the beach, opening his arms when Mike got to him, enveloping his old friend in a fierce hug. They rocked each other back and forth, laughing, then Mike pulled back and put his hands on the sides of Steve's face. He didn't say anything, just grinned and stared, as if not believing his eyes.

Trying to blink away the still threatening tears, Steve stared back, almost beside himself with joy, then Mike pulled him into another hug.

Standing a few feet away, Maggie watched them silently, an almost melancholy smile lighting her face. When they eventually broke apart and turned to her, she stepped forward and embraced the younger man as well, kissing his cheek. "It's so, so good to see you, Steve," she said warmly, nodding towards her husband. "Mike's been on pins and needles for days, waiting for you to get here."

Pulling back and grinning at his former partner, Steve said quietly, "Well, I've been a little anxious myself… that is, until about the fourth flight. Then I just started to get tired."

Chuckling, unable to tear his eyes from the younger man, Mike slapped him on the shoulder and pointed up the berm. "So you found the house with no problem?"

"None whatsoever," Steve replied as the three started to make their way back up the cliff. Steve was having a little trouble getting his footing in the shifting sand but Mike and Maggie were ascending like old pros. Halfway up the hill, Mike turned back towards the beach. "Come on, Autumn, get a move on!" he yelled and Steve watched as an old Golden Retriever got up from behind some tall grasses and broke into a slow, stiff-legged jog to catch up to them.

"That's yours?" Steve asked, his eyebrows raised.

" _That,_ " said Mike pointedly, "is Autumn and she's a she. And yes, she's ours. Come on, girl!" The old dog made her way up the hill towards them, going directly to Mike, who ruffled the back of her ear before finishing his climb to the road.

"Will wonders never cease," Steve said softly to himself as he fell into step beside the couple on their way to the house.

Mike chuckled again, throwing an arm around the younger man, briefly grabbing the back of Steve's neck before his hand settled on his shoulder. Steve smiled warmly; he'd missed that.

"So, you can stay all week?"

"You bet. The university thinks I'm on a course…I'm totally free and nobody knows where I am." He reached out and took Maggie's hand, and she squeezed his happily. "So, is Jeannie here yet?"

"Yep," Mike nodded, and there was no mistaking the delight in his voice, "she got in yesterday. She's doing some shopping right now, getting all the ingredients we need for our special first dinner tonight."

Steve nodded, smiling. He always loved Jeannie's cooking. He looked sideways at his old partner. "So, how are you feeling?"

"Me? Fabulous," Mike laughed. "I'm completely healed. No pain at all anymore, and I can't even tell I don't have all my right lung."

Steve looked at Maggie for confirmation and she nodded with a smile. "He really is a hundred percent. He's not lying."

Steve slapped Mike on the back. "You don't know how relieved I am to hear that, you really don't."

They had reached the house and Mike went ahead to unlock the door as Maggie and Steve followed him up the walk. "This place is beautiful," he said, looking at the porch and small yard. "How did you manage to find this?"

"The Bureau did that for us," Maggie said as she and Steve stepped over the threshold into the small front hall, past Mike who was holding the door open, waiting for Autumn to join them.

As Mike hung the key on a hook on the wall, he said, "Most of our neighbours don't even lock their houses, but we have to be a little more cautious." He nodded at Steve's furrowed brow. "Yeah, it's that kinda town."

"Come on," said Maggie, taking Steve's hand, "I'll give you a tour. Bear, why don't you put the coffeepot on?"

Steve froze, turning slowly and pointedly to both of them. "Bear?" he asked, trying to keep the laughter out of his voice.

Mike closed his eyes, looking embarrassed, and Maggie snorted, biting her lips.

"It's a long story…" Mike started but Steve's grin cut him off.

"I have lots of time…"

As Maggie tried not to chuckle, Mike took a deep breath and sighed. "Well, it's not really a _long_ story… Okay, Maggie was having trouble at first not calling me Mike when we weren't alone, which wasn't… good, let's put it that way, so she decided she would start calling me Bear instead so she wouldn't slip up. She explained it by saying I was famous for giving bear hugs, so…."

"Bear," Steve said slowly, savouring the word. "I like it." Maggie's chuckles were getting a little louder; Mike stared at Steve, his eyes narrowing.

"Don't you dare…"

"Well, you know, I could slip up too, you know? Call you Mike. Blow your cover…"

Maggie glanced at Mike, her face suddenly serious. "He's right," she said quietly, biting her lips again in a vain attempt to stop her grin.

Mike sighed, rolling his eyes. "I'm not gonna win this, am I?"

Both Steve and Maggie shook their heads. "Nope."

Shaking his head, a smile emerging, Mike snickered, "You two take your tour. I'll put the coffee on. Come on, Autumn," he called as he turned and started towards the kitchen.

Laughing, Maggie took Steve's hand again. "Come on. I'll show you around and then we'll get your bag from the car."

# # # # #

"Where is he?!" came Jeannie's excited voice from the front hall. "I know he's here, there's a strange car in the driveway!"

"He's in here," Mike laughed as Jeannie came flying into the kitchen, arms outstretched. Steve started to get to his feet.

"Oh my god," she squealed when she saw him, flinging herself into his arms.

He caught her and pulled her close, chuckling. Mike and Maggie looked on, confused. "I thought you two've seen each other a couple of times in the last few months?"

"We have," Jeannie said happily, leaning back and staring at Steve's face, "but it's just so wonderful to see him here with you two, the four of us together." She let Steve go and crossed to her father, slipping her arm through his. "We never got to have this time together, and I want us to savour it, right?"

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Mike smiled almost sadly. "You're absolutely right. And it would have been even more perfect if Dan could've joined us but he just couldn't get away. He's going for his sergeant's exam and I think he's gonna nail it."

Smiling up at her father, Jeannie grinned and nodded then turned to Steve. "Well, don't just sit there, Professor," she said with a laugh, "make yourself useful and come help me bring the groceries in from the car."

"'Make myself useful'?" Steve echoed as he started to follow her. "I thought I was a guest here this week?" he asked petulantly, sounding put upon.

"Just get out here," Jeannie yelled from the hall and Steve shot Mike a happy grin.

Chuckling, Mike slapped him on the back and Steve shook his head, laughing, as he headed towards the hall.

# # # # #

"Alright, everybody out of the kitchen," Mike announced as the bags of groceries were deposited on the table and counters. Steve looked at him in confusion. Mike stared at him. "Out!" he said again, this time pointing towards the living room.

"Ah, isn't Jeannie cooking dinner?" he asked feebly. Jeannie and Maggie looked at Steve and giggled. "What?"

"Ah," Jeannie said with a glance at her father, "Mike's cooking dinner tonight."

Steve froze. "What?" he asked again. "Wait a minute, you're kidding right…?"

"He's really a very good cook," Maggie said softly, putting a hand on Mike's arm.

"Since when?"

"Since I started having time to actually, you know, do something other than police work. Turns out I have an affinity for cooking," he said with a smug grin.

Steve shook his head slowly. "No," he chuckled.

Mike nodded just as slowly. "Yes," he said emphatically. "Now get!"

Maggie leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, "I have a bottle of wine and some glasses ready for us in the living room."

Laughing, Steve let Jeannie and Maggie lead him out of the kitchen. "You too!" they heard Mike order, and Autumn scrambled to her feet and followed them into the living room.

Chuckling, Mike turned to the bags on the counter and started to unpack.


	34. Chapter 34

"How in the world did you get him into cooking?" Jeannie and Maggie, wrapped in bulky cardigans and sipping glasses of white wine, were sitting on a thick wool blanket on top of the berm. The blustery fall afternoon had given way to a calmer, cool evening and stars were starting to appear in the purple-blue of twilight. The almost-full moon was adding a mesmerizing luminescence to the waves and the sand.

Maggie's signature throaty laugh floated through the air. "It was his idea, really. I was making a pot roast one night just after we got here and he suggested a couple of the things he had seen you do. He was forever bragging about your pot roast; it was really beginning to tick me off," she chuckled and Jeannie grinned. "So I threw down the gauntlet. I said, if you know better, you do it. And he did."

"And?"

"It was delicious." She laughed again. "Cooking was never my forte anyway. I'm a Jersey girl, what did I know from cooking? I was glad to turn that particular chore over to Mike and he just reveled in it. He started haunting bookstores for cookbooks! When we entertain, which is not too often, thank goodness, he handles the entire night, from hors d'oeuvres to dessert. My own personal James Beard," she finished with a proud and loving flourish.

Jeannie laughed affectionately, shaking her head. She looked down the beach to where she could see her father and Steve walking on the sand just out of reach of the lapping waves.

"Do you know he has this week's entire menu planned out? His intention is that we celebrate all the holidays this week, as this is the only time we're probably going to be seeing you and Steve this year." Maggie reached out and took Jeannie's free hand, pulling her close. "So tomorrow night we're having a ham for Thanksgiving, one of your patented pot roasts to celebrate all our birthdays, and the night before you both leave, a turkey for Christmas. I have a feeling you and Steve will be going home with doggie bags!"

Jeannie laughed, leaning easily and lovingly against her stepmother. She knew that she loved this woman for so many reasons, from her strength of will to her bawdy and sarcastic sense of humour to her deep, genuine love for her father. She held out her wineglass and a smiling Maggie clinked hers against it.

# # # # #

"So you really are feeling okay?"

Mike chuckled and looked at his companion sideways. "I feel wonderful, really. I haven't had any chest pain in weeks, my stamina has come back and, after the first few months of looking over our shoulders, I'm relaxed. Really."

"So you've stopped looking over your shoulder?" Steve asked, concern slightly colouring his tone.

"Well, after awhile, we both realized, we can't spend the rest of our lives doing that. It's not how we want to live. The most important thing for us now is that we're together, and we want to live the rest of our lives together – and I mean _live,_ not hiding, not checking under the bed every night, not in suspicion of every new person that we meet. We can't do that."

Mike stopped and turned to the younger man. "Please don't mention any of this to Jeannie, okay? I don't want her to worry unnecessarily but Steve, Maggie and I have decided that we're just going to live our lives and if something happens, then that's what's going to happen. And as long as it happens to both of us, and we're together, well, that's the most important thing."

Steve stared at his old friend, then smiled and nodded and turned to continue along the sand. Mike grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

"You understand what I'm saying right?"

Steve's smile grew bigger and warmer. "Completely," he said warmly, walking on. As Mike fell into step beside him, Steve slapped him on the back, sliding his hand up to rest on his shoulder. "So, ah, when did you become Mike the chef? And, ah, a dog? Mike Stone with a dog? You gotta tell me about that!"

# # # # #

Jeannie and Maggie could hear the men's laughter drifting towards them on the air, and they both smiled warmly. Lying in the tall grass at the bottom of the berm, Autumn's head snapped up and she looked down the beach, whining slightly.

Jeannie gestured towards the dog with her glass of wine. "You know, I never expected Mike to get a dog, ever. We never had one when I was growing up, and I just never thought of him as a dog person."

Maggie was looking at the old Golden with an affectionate smile. "I never had a dog either, but for some reason, once we moved in here, it just seemed like the perfect idea. And she's been a godsend, really. She became attached to your father right away, and he her."

Jeannie looked at her stepmother with a slightly furrowed brow. "Well, I can understand getting a dog, but why one so old? I mean, she's a real sweetheart, there's no denying that, but she's not going to be around much longer I wouldn't think. Wouldn't it have been better to have gotten a puppy?"

Smiling sadly, Maggie looked from Autumn down the beach towards the men, then to her stepdaughter. "Well, that probably would have been the proper thing to do, but, well, there was a certain method to our madness. Our first concern was for appearances, of course. And we thought that maybe having a puppy might be a sign that we were a new couple and that having an older dog might make it look like we'd been together for years before we made the move here."

Raising her eyebrows, Jeannie nodded approvingly. "That's a really good point; I don't know if I'd've thought of that." She picked up the bottle of wine they had stuck into the sand and refilled both their glasses.

As Jeannie poured, Maggie said softly, "Well, that wasn't the only reason I wanted an older dog." When Jeannie looked up, brow furrowed, she continued softly, "I know you're thrilled to see your dad looking so well, but sometimes things aren't always what they seem, Jeannie."

When the younger woman looked at her in alarm, she continued quickly, putting up a hand to wave away any concern, "No, no, don't worry, he's fine physically, he's in excellent health. But he really still hasn't come to grips with all he's lost - you, Steve, Dan, his career, the house – hell, even the city he loves so much.

"The night of the wedding, after he said good-bye to you for the last time and we went to the room to wait for the FBI to take us away… well, your father had a breakdown that night." Jeannie gasped and put a hand to her mouth. Maggie smiled sympathetically and put an arm around her shoulders. "He needed that, Jeannie, he really did and it was good for him to be able to get everything out.

"But since then, he's kept everything inside. When he gets a letter from you or Steve or Dan, or the few times we've been able to talk to you on the phone, I can see him just bottling everything up. I know he wants to cry but something keeps telling him that he can't, that he has to be that kind of man who doesn't do that sort of thing – or maybe he thinks he has to be strong for me – I don't know what it is, but he's got so much loss and grief locked inside and he scares me sometimes." She paused. "He has bad days, Jeannie, days when he just goes deep into himself and he barely smiles and he doesn't want to eat. I give him his space on those days. Luckily they are few and far between and he comes out of them the loving and wonderfully funny and caring man that he is but they scare me."

She dropped her eyes and took a deep breath. When she looked up, Jeannie was staring at her with so much sympathy and love that it almost broke her heart. Maggie took Jeannie's free hand in hers and squeezed. Shaking her head and smiling through her near tears, Maggie said, "So, that's one of the reasons I wanted Autumn. Mike needs to grieve, one way or another. He loves her so much and I know he's going to be devastated when she dies, but I am hoping it's also going to allow him to grieve for more than just her – for everything else that he's lost in his life. And so, maybe – just maybe – he can finally start to recognize that this is our new life, our new reality, without this ache in his soul that I know is there."

She looked down the beach towards the men, who were getting closer, and the adoring smile and look of love were unmistakable. "And now that he knows that you and Steve aren't gone from our lives completely, that we can see you once in a while, even if it means flying halfway around the world first," she chuckled and Jeannie smiled warmly, nodding and laughing lightly, "well, that's just the best thing for him and for all of us. Right?"

Jeannie had put her wineglass on the sand and now she gripped Maggie's arm in both of hers, pulling the other woman close. She leaned her head against Maggie's shoulder, tears starting to slide down her cheeks. "Right."

Maggie turned her head, kissing Jeannie's hair, overwhelmed by the love she felt for this remarkable young woman who was now her daughter. And both women watched as the men approached, hoped that in the fading light their tears would go unnoticed.


	35. Chapter 35

**For 'Burnie'...**

He didn't want to let her go.

Jeannie had wrapped her arms around her father and there they stood, on the porch, locked in each other's embrace, unwilling to break the bond.

They had all shared an amazing week, of love and laughter, food and drink, raucous bonfires on the beach and quiet conversation. They had caught up on each other's lives and swapped stories of their lives apart.

And now it was all over, and the reality of their separation was once more being felt.

Steve and Jeannie were going to the airport together, but taking separate flights at separate times. They had agreed it was best to leave simultaneously, to spare Mike the torture of having to go through two agonizing goodbyes.

Steve was standing beside the rental car with Maggie, watching father and daughter on the porch. She reached out and wrapped her hands around his arm and he put a comforting hand over hers.

He and Mike had taken another of their long walks on the beach that morning and said their goodbyes, neither knowing when they would see each other again. The ache in his heart was almost more physical than emotional now, and he knew he had to get Jeannie out of there before it became just too damn hard to walk away from this most vulnerable man.

But he stood where he was. And they watched.

Eventually, his eyes moist but not quite crying, Mike pulled back and put his hands on his daughters upper arms. He smiled that warm and loving Mike Stone smile, and through her tears she smiled back. Then he put his arm around her shoulders, turned her and they started towards the car.

Maggie backed away from Steve, who opened the passenger side door as Jeannie approached. Without looking back, she got into the car and he closed the door, then turned to his old partner.

They both took deep breaths as they stared at each other, smiling, then Steve threw his arms around the older man once more, grateful to feel the strong arms encircle his chest and squeeze. "If you need to talk, call me," he whispered into Mike's ear. He felt Mike nod, both of them knowing exactly the implications of that statement.

Releasing the younger man, Mike took a step back and reached for Maggie, who stepped to his side and took his hand. With a final nod, Steve circled the car, got behind the wheel and then they were gone.

# # # # #

Wrapped in her bulky burgundy cardigan, a cup of steaming coffee in her hand, Maggie leaned against a post on their porch, staring towards the berm in the fading light. Mike was still sitting in the sand, facing the water, Autumn at his side.

He had been there since Steve and Jeannie had driven away.

She chewed on her lower lip, fighting back the tears, wanting so desperately to go to him but knowing he still needed time. She had seen him do this before, of course, but somehow this was different. This time the hurt was deeper.

With a heartbroken sigh, she turned and went back into the house.

# # # # #

He heard her before she got to him, the familiar cadence of her footfalls as she crossed the road and started up the berm towards him. In spite of everything, he smiled to himself, grateful for her concern, in awe of her understanding.

He smelled the welcoming aroma of the coffee as she sat beside him, doing her best to do so without touching him, and with both hands full. He didn't look at her but he could feel her eyes studying his profile, trying to gauge his mood. Peripherally, he could see her smile slightly, almost relaxing, and she leaned towards him, silently holding out one of the coffee mugs.

He turned to her and smiled back, taking the mug. He took a sip then wrapped both hands around it, appreciating the warmth. He looked back at the water. She leaned into him, taking a sip of her own coffee.

When the mugs were empty, he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. They sat that way for a very long time.

Eventually, the last vestiges of sunlight now completely gone, the black sky alive with millions of tiny stars, she got to her feet and looked down at him. After several seconds, he looked up and she held out her right hand. He stared at her, unmoving, then, smiling slightly, reached up and took her hand, standing stiffly. Autumn, who had lain by his side the entire evening, struggled to her feet and slowly followed them back to the house.

# # # # #

She awoke with a start, surprised to see the first rays of sunlight beginning to brighten the closed curtains. She reached out to touch his arm, as she always did, only slightly surprised to find his side of the bed empty. It was not unusual for him to rise before her, to be downstairs making breakfast or reading the morning paper, puttering away quietly, allowing her to sleep in.

Still unsure what had woken her, she sat up slightly and glanced at the clock/radio. 6:25 am. The early morning air was chilly and she almost gave in to the desire to sink back under the warmth of the duvet. But something was telling her all was not right and, with a knot of fear and trepidation in the pit of her stomach, she climbed from the comforting bed and donned her dressing gown and slippers.

She stepped off the bottom stair and moved towards the kitchen, growing even more apprehensive at the smothering silence. It had been almost two weeks since Jeannie and Steve had left and in that time Mike had remained quieter than normal, the enormity of his loss seeming to weigh on him more and more. She could only hope that he wasn't starting to resent her and second guess his decision to trade his old life for this new one.

As she approached the kitchen, her heart began to pound. She was used to the quietly soothing sounds of Mike talking to Autumn as he went about his morning 'chores', as he liked to called them. But today there was just an ominous hush.

She moved into the kitchen doorway and stopped, catching her breath. Mike, in his dressing gown and slippers, was sitting on the floor, his back to the fridge, his legs outstretched. Autumn was lying on the floor beside him, her head on his right thigh, and he was stroking her neck and shoulders in an oh-so-familiar action.

But something about the loving gesture seemed unnatural, and Maggie stared at Autumn's eyes, waiting for her to blink. Realizing what was going on, Maggie looked at her husband, who was staring straight ahead, continuing to caress the soft golden fur. Eventually, he blinked and turned to look at her, his eyes brimming.

Their stares locked for several seconds, neither moving, and then his face began to crumble, his body began to shake and he dropped his head, tears spilling from his eyes and splashing onto his robe and the dead dog's head.

With a heartbreaking whimper, Maggie dropped to her knees beside her husband and wrapped her arms around him, pulling his head to her chest and stroking the side of his face, her own tears falling on his hair as she held him and rocked him. His sobs filled the room, as he struggled to breathe, finally letting all the pent-up grief and anger flood out.

# # # # #

He was sitting at the kitchen table, both hands wrapped around a cup of fresh coffee, staring into space. She crossed to him from the counter, pulled his head into her stomach and kissed his hair, stroking his cheek, feeling the early morning stubble. He reached up and slipped an arm around her back, holding her tightly.

Smiling, she pulled the other chair close to him and sat, leaning over the table, placing both her own hands around her mug. They had remained in each other's arms on the kitchen floor for almost an hour, as he gave in to the waves of sorrow that washed over him again and again, until she was satisfied that he was drained of everything he had been holding inside.

Depleted and numb, they had wrapped Autumn's lifeless body in her favourite blanket and Mike had carried her into the small backyard. Maggie insisted that her husband have some breakfast before they began the onerous task of burying their beloved companion.

Mike finally looked up to meet her eyes and he smiled slightly. He laid a gentle hand on her forearm. "Thank you," he said quietly.

"For what?"

He took a deep breath, staring into her soft brown eyes. "For loving me as much as you do," he said simply, and she knew he was aware of everything she had been doing to help him these last few months.

She covered his hand with hers and smiled at him warmly. "You're welcome," she said and chuckled slightly, rewarded when he chuckled back at her.

"How did you know?" he asked almost inaudibly.

She shrugged. "Well, I didn't really _know_. I suppose you could call it an educated guess." She paused. "Bear, you've had to give up so much more than I have for this relationship. It hasn't been fair for you. And I know how much and how deeply you love, and I'm not just talking about the _people_ in your life. That's what makes you so special." She squeezed his hand.

"I adore you, Mike, and I want you to be happy. And I want you to be sure that you made the right decision in all this. I want to be sure that a few months or a few years down the road, you don't start to resent me for making you give up everything that you hold so dear."

As she talked, his look turned from unabashed love to one of genuine concern. "You didn't make me do anything," he said, worry in his voice. "Don't you ever think that. What I did, I did because I love you and I believe in us, in the life we can make together."

She smiled thankfully; these were the words she wanted to hear.

Buoyed by her smile, he mirrored the look. "I knew saying goodbye to my old life was going to be hard…very hard. I'm not naïve… And I also knew I was going to have to face it at some point. And that's something I was fighting, I know." He snorted with an amused sadness and looked down, tears building in his eyes once more. "I'm gonna miss her so very much. But she sure knew how to do her job, didn't she?" he smiled and looked back up at his wife.

Maggie lips began to tremble and despite the tears coursing down her cheeks, she smiled as well. "She sure did." She patted his hand. "Let's go show her how much we loved her, okay?"

His face wet with tears, Mike smiled and nodded.

# # # # #

Steve walked into his office, taking off his jacket and slipping it over the back of his chair. The sunlight was streaming through his office window on the crisp late January morning as he glanced at his day planner, checking his calendar.

He was about to pick up his briefcase and head out the door when a manila envelope, tucked under one end of the blotter, caught his attention. In plain block letters on the front were the words 'Professor Steven Keller'. He didn't recognize the handwriting.

Opening the top desk drawer and taking out a letter opener, Steve slit open the top of the manila envelope and slid out the slightly smaller white envelope inside. On it, in blue ballpoint ink, was one name - 'Steve'. Now _that_ handwriting he did recognize, and it brought a smile to his face.

He slit the top of that envelope as well, squeezed it to pop it open and withdrew a photo and a folded piece of white paper. Smiling, he looked at the photo first, and chuckled. There, grinning at the camera, sitting on the grass in front of their house, was Mike, Maggie, and a brand-new Golden Retriever puppy, trying to squirm out of Mike's grasp, it seemed.

Steve flipped the photo over. In Mike's handwriting on the back, it read 'Meet the new addition to our family – Buddy Boy!'

Laughing out loud now, Steve tossed the photo on the desk and opened the note. As he read, his laughter died away and his smile disappeared. He slumped into the chair when he finished, letting the note dangle in his hand. He sat perfectly still for several long seconds, then lifted the paper and read it again.

'I think I have an offer you might not be able to refuse. Any chance of you taking some time off to come back here and help your old partner work on a cold case that's stumped the local PD here for the last 20 years? If you're interested, let me know. Mike'


End file.
